Dad never liked Beijing.

  He avoids it like Superman avoids the red sun (ours is yellow). Anywhere else, he’s invincible—and rightly so.

  Aladdin is the Cinderella story of the Ruby Republic. Built from a cramped apartment with a cracked window and a borrowed laptop (that's how we claim it all started anyway), it became legend. Now it monopolizes e-commerce, dominates cloud computing, and leads in online payments. Year-over-year revenue growth exceeds 50%. Mobile revenue? Increased by over 500%.

  Aladdin ranks 22nd in global market valuation. And it’s all because of him.

  In every other city, he’s treated like royalty. Governors, mayors, ministers—they line up to greet him, bowing like disciples.

  But not in Beijing.

  Here, he must bow. He must smile. Play courtier to men he privately despises.

  So he sends Eric and me to handle things. Eric represents Aladdin—the company. I represent him.

  But this time, he comes himself.

  Officially, it’s about acquiring YouQu—the faltering titan of online streaming. Unofficially, it’s about forcing Antz Financial’s IPO through the gates of power.

  Still, I’m surprised when the first person he insists on seeing is Jianhua. And that he drags me along.

  The car stops at a narrow alley behind a forgotten gate near the Drum Tower. The plaque reads Peiyuan Garden in elegant, fading calligraphy. A crooked sign stands below: Temporarily Closed.

  We step through.

  Two women in black blazers greet us with a nod. Jianhua’s bodyguards—no question. Beautiful, but not ornamental. Their posture is sharp, their eyes alert. I wonder, briefly, if protection is the only service they provide.

  The garden is a perfect neutral ground. Open. No echoes. No blind spots. No one can get within twenty yards without being seen.

  Sunlight bleeds gold across the koi pond. The air is thick with peony, sweet and heady. Bamboo stalks sway like eavesdropping confidants.

  Jianhua sits in a small pavilion, a stone table before him, four stone stools arranged with quiet symmetry. A tea set rests on the table. I glance beneath the table, searching for wires, transmitters—anything. Dad stops me with a hand on my wrist.

  “Is your phone nearby?” he asks.

  “No,” Jianhua replies. Protocol. No electronics.

  “Then you won’t mind this.” Dad pulls a cold, smooth cylinder from his pocket. No bigger than a beer can. With a quiet click, a red light pulses. He presses a recess button.

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  No sound. No flash. Just a sudden, profound silence.

  The red light turns green.

  Any electronics nearby would have been fried.

  “Technology,” Dad says, “is more reliable than people. More reliable than money.”

  Jianhua nods. “Drink to that.” He opens a tea caddy, drops a pinch of tea leaves into a cup, pours hot water, and slides it toward Dad.

  As a coffee drinker, I've never developed an appreciation for tea. Yet, I immediately recognize how extraordinary this tea is.

  Each leaf stands vertically, blooming into five-petaled verdant flowers. The fragrance is earthy and floral, with a calming effect. It reaches me from arm's length and settles in my chest like a lullaby.

  "Courtesy of Lyra," Jianhua says, as he serves another cup. "From Sanguine Institute. You're from Hangzhou. I thought you'd appreciate this."

  “Incredible!” Dad sips, closes his eyes, savoring. “Longjing. Yinzhen. Apricot.”

  Jianhua smiles, gives a thumbs-up.

  “CRISPR can do wonders,” Dad says, swirling his tea. “But I still prefer the internet. It’s faster. Hungrier.”

  Then he leans in, voice low and deliberate. “In business as in politics, there are no eternal friends. No eternal enemies. You tried to sabotage Antz Financial’s IPO. Now you’re a major shareholder. It's time we work together."

  Jianhua shrugs, casual. “I don’t run companies. Especially not high-tech ones. I take stakes and make money.”

  Dad nods. "Sure. But not just in Antz Financial. The internet is full of opportunities. Regarding fintech, I regret not bringing you in sooner. I'm here to fix that."

  He shifts gears. "I know you're deep in the film industry."

  I suppress a laugh. More like deep in actresses.

  "But did you know that online streaming has now become the second largest revenue source for films in the Ruby Republic, overtaking both television rights and DVD sales?"

  Jianhua raises an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

  “Mobile viewership’s up 128%. Streaming revenue grows 30% annually. With 5G coming, it’ll surpass box office in a few years.”

  Dad pauses. “You know what that means?”

  Jianhua nods slowly. “Whoever controls streaming—controls film.”

  He gets it. If theater scheduling influences revenue today, placement on streaming platforms will dictate it tomorrow.

  “Exactly,” Dad says. “We’re acquiring YouQu. I invite you to take an early stake.”

  "But not just YouQu," Dad continues. "We've realised something else, too. Mobile has made users more proficient and sophisticated. The internet is shifting from 'platform is king' to 'content is king.'"

  “So we’re launching Aladdin Films, investing 30 billion over five years. I want you in the first round.”

  “You won’t just profit from two IPOs. You’ll become one of the most influential figures in motion pictures.”

  Jianhua is visibly moved, eyes gleaming. “I want one thing,” he says, grinning. “Veto power over the lead actress.”

  Dad doesn’t flinch. “Done. We’ll write it into the SPA.”

  Then he turns to me.

  “I have one more proposal. Snow has a crush on you.”

  I freeze at the sudden mention of my love interest. My face burns with embarrassment. But Dad isn't over.

  “I know you rejected her. But as her father, I want her happy. If you marry her, I’ll rewrite my will. Half my inheritance goes to your children. Before they turn thirty, you—not Snow—will have control.”

  Jianhua’s face shifts—shock, calculation, hunger. Dad is offering him half the Aladdin empire. With his resources, he could buy out my brother’s stake. Take full control.

  I feel heat rise in my chest. I’m not a pawn. I’m not a dowry.

  “Such generosity,” Jianhua says slowly. “What’s the catch?”

  Dad’s voice sharpens. “2017 is coming. Two Ruby Fives—Xi and Qiuhan—will retire. If all goes as expected, Keyang will be Party Secretary. Yan Wang is his strongest ally. If we align, we can place another ally in the Five. That gives the Prime Minister full control.”

  “I know Lyra has her own candidates,” Dad adds. “Are you with me—or with her?”

  That’s Dad’s game. Divide and conquer. Use politics to sever Jianhua from Lyra. Turn him against her.

  I watch Jianhua’s face closely.

  Not just because it concerns my marriage.

  But because it concerns the future of everything.