Chapter 9
The private dining room still smelled of cooling pu-erh and scorched paper. The speakerphone sat in the center of the rosewood table, its mute light a silent, ominous pulse. Qin Zhen’s thumb hovered over the red end-call button, but he didn’t press it. His usual polished composure had cracked, sweat glistening along his hairline despite the air conditioning that hummed faintly in the background.
“The municipal tender office just forwarded an email from the lead city bidder,” he said, his voice flatter than it had been