Huayu: This director is pretty strong.

Chapter 177 Midnight Depravity and the Thief of the Jinghai Building

Chen Yan did not answer the phone.

My gaze passed over Su Wan's shoulder and landed at the end of the corridor. Lin Qingqiu's door was ajar, a sliver of cold white light escaping through the crack. The celebration banquet downstairs was still noisy, the clinking of glasses rising in waves, but by the time it reached the second floor, the sound was swallowed up by the thick carpet and only muffled noise remained.

Su Wan followed his gaze and tightened her grip on the satellite phone.

Chen Yan moved her half a step to the side.

"Wait a minute."

As soon as he finished speaking, he had already crossed the corridor.

When the door was pushed open, there was no main light in the room, the curtains were half-drawn, and the sea breeze lifted the fabric, creating a narrow gap. The sound of water running too loudly in the bathroom, the jet of water hitting the tiles, was so monotonous that it made one's neck stiff.

Chen Yan stopped in front of the bathroom door and saw a cold, damp light shining through the frosted glass.

"Qingqiu"

No one answered.

The sound of water was still ringing, like a broken machine turning tirelessly.

The doorknob got stuck halfway through the turn; it was locked from the inside. Chen Yan took a half step back, his shoe soles sinking into the water on the floor, and kicked the door lock next to the latch.

With a bang, the lock snapped open, and the glass door slammed against the wall before bouncing back half a foot.

The cold air and steam from the bathroom hit my face.

With the showerhead on full blast, water jets poured down from above. Lin Qingqiu sat on the edge of the bathtub, still wearing the black halter dress she wore on the red carpet. The fabric was pressed against her shoulders, back, and waistline by the water, and strands of her hair clung to the sides of her face.

She was clutching a shard of glass in her hand.

The edges were cut thin and shiny, and the tip was pressed against the left forearm. The skin had been cut with a shallow cut, and the blood droplets mixed with the water and were quickly diluted.

She didn't cry; her eyes were empty, as if she were looking at some non-existent corner of the bathroom.

In "Thunder," the female assassin relies on her wounds to confirm she's still alive. Lin Qingqiu devoured that person to the bone; filming wrapped, but she remained trapped in the mine and the stench of blood.

The lens pressed down onto the skin again.

Chen Yan stepped over, not grabbing the glass, but instead grabbing her hand that was holding the lens.

The sharp edge pierced his palm, and blood seeped from between his fingers, dripping into the white bathtub, staining the water with thin red lines.

At this moment, Lin Qingqiu's hand finally trembled.

She raised her face, her gaze first falling on the blood in Chen Yan's palm, and a hoarse sound escaped her throat.

"What are you doing?"

Chen Yan did not let go, letting the glass remain embedded in his flesh.

"Want to confirm you're still alive?"

He stared at her. "The filming is finished. The assassin is still in the movie. Your name is Lin Qingqiu now."

"I can't get out."

Lin Qingqiu looked at his hands, her shoulders began to tremble, and her teeth chattered softly. "Director Chen, when I close my eyes, all I see is the mine shaft and all that blood. I can't feel where I am, and I don't know where the pain is."

Chen Yan pinched her wrist bone and slowly pried her fingers apart.

The blood-stained shards of glass landed on the tiles with a sharp crack.

He reached out and turned off the shower. After the water stopped, only Lin Qingqiu's disordered breathing remained in the bathroom. Chen Yan pulled off a bath towel, wrapped it around her, and dragged her out of the cold water, leading her to the sink.

"Look in the mirror."

He stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders.

The mirror was shattered in half, and the remaining half reflected Lin Qingqiu's pale face, her wet hair clinging to her cheeks, and her lipstick washed away by the water, leaving a faint red stain.

"Remember this face."

Chen Yan's voice whispered in her ear, "You're the one I chose for the shoot. Your pain, your tears, your very life—all of it must be for the role. Without my approval, you're not allowed to harm a single hair. Do you hear me?"

Lin Qingqiu stared at herself in the mirror, then looked at Chen Yan's eyes in the mirror.

There was no pity or panic in those eyes, only a push towards reality.

Her lips moved a few times before tears finally fell.

As she turned around, she buried her face in Chen Yan's chest, her sobs muffled by the wet towel and shirt, broken and intermittent, as if she had been holding it in for too long before finally tearing a hole in it.

Chen Yan did not push her away.

The injured hand hung in mid-air, blood sliding down the wrist bone.

This is the price of creating a god. He heated a piece of scrap iron until it was red-hot, hammered it, quenched it, and sharpened it into a blade, and now he has to personally find the scabbard for that knife.

Footsteps approached in the corridor.

Su Wan stood at the bathroom door and saw the two people embracing, as well as the blood and broken glass on the floor. She paused for only half a second, then turned and went downstairs to get the first-aid kit.

When I sat back down in the living room, the sweet smell of champagne still lingered in the air, and the sea breeze outside made the glass rattle softly.

Su Wan bent down to treat Chen Yan's palm, using tweezers to remove tiny shards of glass. A cotton ball pressed against it, and blood seeped out again. Lin Qingqiu changed into dry clothes and huddled in the corner of the sofa, holding a cup of hot milk in both hands. The steam from the cup warmed her fingertips, leaving a slight stain.

After Su Wan finished bandaging herself, Chen Yan picked up the satellite phone on the table and dialed back.

As soon as the call connected, Lin Shufen's voice came through.

"Chen Yan, you've finally answered. Something's happened back home."

"explain."

He leaned back on the sofa, his bandaged right hand resting on his knee.

"Lu Haiming is in jail, but his investors have made their move. You know East Asia Trust, right? It was the secret money bag Lu Haiming used to launder money back then. While you were overseas, they forged a batch of high-value debt contracts for Jinghai Film and Television overnight, and now it has gone through bankruptcy liquidation proceedings in court."

Chen Yan's eyes darkened.

After Lu Haiming's downfall, the most valuable asset of Jinghai Film & Television was its thirty plots of land in prime commercial districts of first- and second-tier cities, which would later form the foundation for its independent cinema empire.

"Is the target land?"

"Yes, it was transferred to a shell company in the Cayman Islands."

The sound of a cigarette pack being crushed came from Lin Shufen's end. "The Housing Authority opens at nine o'clock tomorrow morning. They've streamlined every possible step. Once the stamp is on, the transfer is complete, and the stuff is gone. There are less than twelve hours until nine o'clock now."

Chen Yan turned his head to look at Su Wan.

"Can you stop them by bidding with money?"

Su Wan had already turned on her computer, the screen light reflecting on her face as her fingers flew across the keyboard. A few seconds later, she shook her head.

"It's too late. The 15 million euro deal with Lionsgate was just signed, and cross-border large-scale liquidation will take at least 48 hours. The cash on hand can't fill that debt hole."

Normal commercial defenses have been shut down.

East Asia Trust made a very precise move, calculating that others were in Venice, that there was a time difference in the arrival of funds, and that after Lu Haiming was implicated, everyone would be focused on the criminal case, and no one could get Jinghai Films out of the liquidation process in the middle of the night.

On the phone, Lin Shufen was breathing heavily.

"If this doesn't work, I'll have someone block them at the entrance of the housing management bureau. If the person who signed dares to show his face, I'll make sure he can't get a pen tomorrow."

"It's no use."

Chen Yan interrupted her, "East Asia Trust is dressed like a legitimate financial institution. If you make a move, they'll call the police, things will escalate, the land will be seized and liquidated, and the result will be the same."

The living room quieted down.

Twelve hours later, I was in Europe, the money was on its way, and the paperwork in China was in its final stages.

Chen Yan looked at the Golden Lion Trophy on the table.

The golden lion, wings outstretched, stood quietly under the lamp, cold and hard, devoid of any warmth of a victory celebration.

If a problem can't be solved at the business table, then overturn the table.

"Sister Lin, don't move."

He spoke into the phone, "Have them sign it."

Lin Shufen paused for a few seconds, her breathing becoming erratic.

"Chen Yan, are you crazy? We've lost the land, how are we going to build a cinema chain?"

"They can't take it with them."

Chen Yan hung up the phone and looked up at Su Wan.

"Buy the next available flight back to Beijing. Tell Wu Gang to have someone wait for him at the airport."

Su Wan didn't ask why, closed her laptop and reopened the ticket booking page.

Chen Yan took out his personal phone and found an unnumbered contact.

Liang Qinian, a veteran police officer in Tianjin, has a private hotline.

The phone rang three times before being answered.

"Feed".

Liang Qinian's voice had a hoarse quality from staying up all night, and in the background, there were pages turning and folders opening and closing.

"Officer Liang, are you still at the station?"

"Lu Haiming's case is too complicated; we need to gather more evidence."

There was a pause on the other end. "You won an award, right? Congratulations."

"I will take the trophy back with me."

Chen Yan looked out at the dark sea. "But someone wants to steal our spoils. East Asia Trust, ever heard of it?"

The rustling of paper stopped.

"Lu Haiming's money bag. What happened?"

"They are transferring 30 plots of land belonging to Jinghai Film and Television, and the transfer is scheduled to take place in eleven hours."

Chen Yan switched hands to hold the phone; his injured palm swelled slightly beneath the bandage. "Officer Liang, haven't you always wanted to investigate where the illicit funds from Lu Haiming's 1995 construction collapse case went?"

The sound of chair legs scraping against the ground came through the receiver.

Liang Qinian stood up.

"Do you have any leads?"

"Get me paper and pen."

Chen Yan closed his eyes, and the files, bank statements, and offshore account numbers he had reviewed in his previous life's desperate situation unfolded page by page in his mind. The numbers hadn't faded, and the paths remained unbroken.

"In March 1996, a sum of 20 million yuan was transferred into an account at Tianjin Commercial Bank with the last five digits being 4589. It was subsequently split into 50 transactions and sent to Hong Kong through underground money changers. In 1997, this money was channeled through the East Asia Trust offshore account and, under the guise of overseas investment funds, was repatriated to invest in Jinghai Film and Television."

He opened his eyes.

"That blood-stained money was laundered in this way. Now, those thirty plots of land are the final form of the embezzled funds."

Only Liang Qinian's breathing could be heard through the receiver.

The Economic Investigation Department pursued this financial chain for five years but never caught it.

"Where is the evidence?"

"I've given you the path. With your access permissions, how long will it take to retrieve the bank's original documents?"

Three hours.

That's enough.

Chen Yan glanced at his watch. "After verification, we will apply to the Ministry for the highest level of asset freeze, citing the existence of concealed assets in this major organized crime money laundering case. I want to see the Economic Crime Investigation Team at the Jinghai Film and Television signing room before nine o'clock tomorrow morning."

Liang Qinian was silent for two seconds.

"Chen Yan, you're using public power as a weapon for business."

Chen Yan's finger stopped at the edge of the phone.

"I'm helping you recover the stolen money that killed your sister."

His tone was low, each word precise and to the point: "You want the truth, I want the land. Each gets what they want. Are you in or not?"

The paper and pen were slammed heavily onto the table.

"Wait for my news."

The phone hangs up.

Chen Yan put away his phone, and no one spoke in the living room.

The hidden cards have been played; now, all that's left is to wait for dawn.