Ruolin's involvement in the investigation was a stroke of luck—but hardly critical. Liran would have turned on Keyang eventually. She might have suspected him from the very beginning. She doesn't need proof. She only needs motive.

  I left breadcrumbs pointing straight to Keyang. Someone else would have found them eventually. His security chief woke at the edge of Ocean Terrace, disoriented and exposed. When he finally stumbled back to his residence, he found Kejun—the nurse—naked in his bed.

  The more they scrambled to cover their tracks, the guiltier they appeared. Flailing. Desperate. Blind. Drowning. Then there were the vials of toxin I planted, each one a damning clue.

  My goal was never killing—it was intensifying the internal fractures within the Ruby Five. They are far more useful impaired and manipulated than dead.

  Sanguine Institute—that's the trapdoor waiting beneath Liran's feet. The Red Party keeps living organ reserves for every high-level official: a student at school, a clerk at a state-run corporation, a dancer in the military troupe. These people believe they're living full lives. They don't know they're tagged, monitored, fattened like livestock awaiting slaughter. Their organs already spoken for.

  But the brain—you can't transplant a brain. Which means Diping Xi will be chained to Sanguine Institute forever, dependent on them to silence the screaming agony inside his skull.

  … …

  We arrive at the Summer Palace on Sunday evening—three days after I turned this place upside down.

  Liran welcomes us at Ocean Terrace, her smile brittle but warm. She takes Evangeline's hands and holds them for a long moment, her gaze penetrating.

  "I've heard so much about you," she says softly. "But you are so much more than I heard."

  Evangeline meets her eyes without flinching, humble yet confident. "First Lady, it's a great honor to meet you in person. To serve you is to serve the nation."

  Liran nods, her expression pleased. Then she turns to Iris. "Dr. Kane, thank you so much for coming on such short notice."

  Iris only nods, her jaw tight. "Saving people is a doctor's responsibility."

  I didn't tell them what's happening inside the Palace. But even Iris realizes we're here to treat someone important—someone closely tied to the First Lady.

  Before we treat the Party Secretary, Dr. Yang leads us away from Ocean Terrace. Liran reaches for my arm, her eyes asking me to stay. She clearly has questions.

  But I shake my head. "Dr. Kane may be shocked by what she's about to see."

  Only then does Liran realize that some doctors still have a conscience.

  In a highly secured clinic, three men in prison uniforms writhe and groan on the bare concrete floor. Three armed soldiers stand watch near the door, faces blank.

  Iris stops cold. Her expression shifts—shock, then revulsion. She turns to me, eyes wide, indignation blazing beneath the surface. I've been walking beside her; now I take her hand, gently but firmly.

  I whisper, soft enough to sound compassionate but loud enough for others to hear. "They need help. Look at them."

  Iris's gaze snaps back to the prisoners. Her mouth tightens. Slowly, she nods, though her hand trembles in mine.

  "They were administered the vapor poison we discussed over the phone," Dr. Yang says, his tone casual, nonchalant.

  Iris stiffens. Her nostrils flare. She collects herself with visible effort, her voice clipped and cold. "I need to perform a lumbar puncture. In a highly hygienic environment."

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  By now, a crowd of doctors and nurses has gathered at the door, watching with eager anticipation, waiting to witness Iris perform a medical miracle.

  Dr. Yang barks a few names. They clear the adjacent room in minutes.

  We wait inside the new room. The prisoners are stripped and dressed in hospital gowns, the backs open and exposing pale, vulnerable skin.

  When I see Iris has steadied herself and begun preparing her instruments, I slip out. Dr. Yang arranges for a soldier to escort me back to Ocean Terrace.

  Liran lights up when she sees me return.

  "How is Dr. Kane?" she asks, her voice betraying a hint of urgency.

  "Operating," I say, offering a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. She's a professional."

  She searches my eyes, hesitating. Then she takes a long, shaky breath. "It's Diping. Someone poisoned him Thursday night." Her voice cracks. Her eyes glisten. The iron composure she's been holding fractures before me.

  "Inside the Summer Palace?" I let surprise flood my voice, my eyes widening in shock.

  She nods, her lips pressed thin.

  "Don't worry," I say, my voice steady and soothing. "Sanguine Institute has been doing stem cell therapy for years. We'll get him back on his feet."

  "How close is Sanguine Institute to Keyang?" she asks, one eyebrow arching, her gaze sharp and probing. The First Lady is back.

  She must have investigated thoroughly. She wouldn't seek help blindfolded. She knew Keyang had brought Evangeline to that Politburo Standing Committee gathering.

  "I introduced them," I admit. "The Central Bank is blocking their funding scheme. Even money can't buy their permission. Evangeline asked me to help."

  The best way to win Liran's trust is to tell her the truth.

  "How did you know Evangeline?"

  "Her grandfather was my lover," I say, my voice hardening. "He betrayed me. He has only one son—whom he despises. Three grandchildren competing for the inheritance. I'm helping Evangeline. Through her, I'll control his business empire."

  Liran knows me well. She knows what I do to my enemies. And she believes me. It's the truth, after all.

  "How are you controlling her?" she asks, curiosity flickering in her eyes.

  I only smile. "Trade secret."

  She acquiesces with a small nod. Just as I don't ask her how she controls Diping, she shouldn't ask me how I control Evangeline.

  "Are you hungry?" she asks suddenly. Then she orders bird's nest soup—not the kind sold for two thousand yuan a bowl in high class restaurants. This is the real thing: wild-harvested from coastal caves, each strand translucent and delicate, dissolved into a silken broth that tastes like the sea and sky combined.

  As we sip the soup, she asks over the rim of her bowl, "Have you noticed any irregularities in the stock market?"

  "Definitely," I answer. "Watch Haitong Securities, Guosen, and CITIC. I hear they're circumventing trading limitations, enabling foreign and private firms to short the market."

  "Who gave them such audacity?" Liran hisses, her teeth clenched.

  "Keyang can't pull it off," I say. "His influence in finance is limited. Qiuhan must be involved."

  Liran's eyes bore into mine. Calculating. She knows I'm right. Qiuhan's influence runs deep in finance. No one could execute an operation like this without his knowledge—without his approval. But that changes everything.

  Qiuhan is perceived as Diping's most trusted ally, wielding the Discipline Commission to clear opposition for him. If Qiuhan is planning a coup, Diping's rule is in jeopardy.

  "Any suggestions?" she asks, leaning forward. "You know I value your input."

  "Depends on your goal," I say carefully. "If you want to pursue a second term, the situation needs to be extraordinary."

  Her eyes ignite with recognition.

  "If you ask me, technology has made the old rules obsolete," I say quietly, my voice laced with knowing weight. "Seventy can be young. A hundred and fifty will be commonplace."

  Before she can respond, Dr. Yang returns—with Evangeline and Iris.

  The treatment's effect is immediate. The three political prisoners calm within minutes. Half an hour later, their pain has evaporated.

  Liran is exhilarated. She can barely contain herself. But I insist on caution. "Let's observe the prisoners for eight hours."

  … …

  Seven o'clock Monday morning, Liran leads Iris and me into Diping's room. Dr. Yang has already made the necessary preparations.

  Seeing the usually imperious Party Secretary reduced to a trembling, sweat-soaked figure twisted in agony, I feel nothing but contempt.

  After Mao, the rulers of the Republic are not natural leaders. They are cowards and opportunists, propped up by unchallenged power.

  Evangeline is not allowed in. She waits outside. One less person to witness the General Secretary's humiliation.

  The pain recedes quickly after the lumbar puncture. Color returns to his face. His eyes clear.

  Liran exhales, visibly relieved. Then satisfaction washes over her features. The tide has truly turned. She'll accomplish what no one has done since Mao—breaking Party tradition, holding onto power beyond age.

  Seventy is nothing with Sanguine Institute on her side. Vibrant youth until one hundred. Ruling indefinitely.

  Her eyes gleam with newfound power and possibility.

  And I realize, watching her, that I've just handed her immortality—and chained her to it forever.