Meanwhile, in an office at the Ji Group-
Outside the window, skyscrapers stood in tightly packed rows, their glass facades reflecting the glaring midday sunlight and bathing the room in a brightness that carried a hint of chill.
Dark solid-wood flooring fitted seamlessly across the thirty-square-meter space, making almost no sound underfoot.
A wall-to-wall bookcase stood along one side of the office. Its dark brown wooden shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, neatly lined with hardcover books with gold-stamped covers.
The walls were painted a cool pale gray, and an abstract oil painting hung on one of them, its clashing blocks of color giving off an inexplicably oppressive air.
The heavy solid-wood door closed almost silently, yet it acted as an invisible barrier, shutting out every faint sound from the secretaries' office and leaving only the nearly stagnant silence inside.
At the center stood a three-meter-long ebony desk, with Fang Youcheng standing before it, organizing documents.
Behind the desk was a high-backed leather chair, the Ji Corporation logo on its back gleaming discreetly in the light. Ji Cheng was sitting in it.
While his son focused on organizing the documents, his eyes remained fixed on his phone screen. The longer he looked, the darker his expression became, until he finally slammed the phone onto the desk with a loud bang.
Startled by his father's sudden action, Fang Youcheng looked up in confusion and asked, "Chairman Ji, is something wrong?"
At work, Fang Youcheng could not call Ji Cheng Dad, so he had grown accustomed to addressing him by his title.
Hearing Fang Youcheng's puzzled question, Ji Cheng glanced at him but did not answer immediately. He took several deep breaths to calm himself, then said coldly, "Nothing. Carry on with your work."
Fang Youcheng did not understand, but he knew