The Rigged Bid
The long dining table bore the weight of dishes meant to celebrate the Chen family’s legacy, but tonight the feast barely concealed the sharp tension in the air. Liu Wei sat at the far end, a quiet island amid murmurs and sidelong glances. Madam Chen’s eyes fixed on him with cold precision, like a judge ready to deliver a verdict.
“Liu Wei,” she said, her voice clear and unforgiving, “your failures pile higher than the dust in that kitchen you so eagerly clean. Since you arrived, the family’s reputation has slipped—contracts lost, alliances weakened. And now, the hospital tender—what have you contributed besides burdens?”
Her words cut deep. Around the table, relatives shifted uneasily; some nodded, others exchanged furtive looks. Chen Yong smirked openly, echoing his mother’s assault. Liu Wei lowered his gaze, steady but resigned. The ancestral restaurant’s faded murals pressed down on him—symbols of a dynasty forged through discipline and mastery, now a backdrop for his disposability.
Yet beneath his stillness, his mind raced.
Madam Chen’s voice sharpened. “Your presence threatens more than profit. If you remain useless, I will not hesitate to begin formal separation proceedings. This marriage is not a charity.”
A hush fell. The threat was no longer veiled; it was a blade drawn in public. Chen Yong leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Perhaps it’s time the family reconsidered what it tolerates.”
The words hung heavy. Liu Wei’s throat tightened, but he said nothing. The ancestral kitchen—the heart of the family’s rise—now mocked him with its silence.
When the dinner ended, Liu Wei slipped away before the crowd thickened. The sting of humiliation still fresh, he moved toward the narrow corridor leading to Chen Yong’s office—the command center where family power played out in cold, sealed documents.
The door stood slightly ajar—a rare lapse in Chen Yong’s usual vigilance. Heart tightening, Liu Wei slipped inside. The room smelled of leather and stale cigarettes, an oppressive contrast to the ancestral restaurant’s faded grandeur.
On the desk lay the missing valuation file he’d hunted since the family meeting. His fingers trembled briefly before flipping it open.
Rows of numbers and projections filled the pages, but one section caught his eye: a series of competitor bids grotesquely inflated. The hidden ledger line he’d spotted earlier now revealed itself—a deliberate chokehold orchestrated by Chen Yong to rig the tender.
He pulled out his phone, snapping precise photos of the critical pages. Each image was a silent protest against the lies Chen Yong peddled.
A sudden click froze him mid-motion. The door swung wider, and Chen Yong stood there, eyes narrowing. “Thought you'd sneak around where you don’t belong?” His voice was low, dangerous.
Liu Wei met the gaze without flinching, slipping the phone into his jacket pocket. “I’m just checking the tender documents. Someone’s rigging the bids, and I’m not letting the family lose another cent.”
Chen Yong’s sneer deepened. “You think you can waltz in here and undermine me? I’m locking this place down. No one touches these files without my say.”
Before Liu Wei could respond, Chen snapped the lock shut, twisting the key. The metal clinked like a verdict.
Liu Wei’s jaw clenched. This wasn’t just a personal insult anymore—it was a barricade.
His eyes darted to the keypad beside the door—Chen had changed the code.
“You think this little stunt will stop me?” Liu Wei’s voice was low but charged. “We both know what’s at stake. The tender’s rigged, and your family’s reputation crumbles with every second you waste playing gatekeeper.”
Chen’s brow furrowed, but his grip on the door remained firm. “You’re overstepping. This isn’t a game to you, but it is to me.”
Outside, footsteps echoed—someone approaching fast. Liu’s pulse quickened; the deal was moving forward without him, but so was the danger.
If Chen held the keys, was Liu Wei already locked out of the family’s future?