Lin Feng crouched behind his CEO office's floor-to-ceiling window like a startled cat, squinting at a cup of Chef Kang's Braised Beef Noodles under the sunlight. "Expired for three months…" he muttered, voice trembling like a karaoke singer missing the high note. Turning to the empty room, he yelled, "Dad, did you run this company like a doomsday bunker?!"
CLACK-CLACK-CLACK.
The stiletto gunfire echoing down the marble hallway made his heart race. Oh no. His sister, Lin Xue, had arrived.
Leaning against the doorframe with blood-red nails glinting like warning lights, she smirked. "Oh look, the new CEO's already raiding the employee snacks after three whole hours?"
Lin Feng's face turned tomato-red as he shoved the noodles behind his back. "This isn't stealing! It's… market research! Auntie Wang said it's her hubby's late-night snack—"
"Stop lying," Lin Xue snorted. "Her husband eloped with a square-dance instructor a decade ago. Everyone knows that." With a dramatic flourish, she tossed a folder labeled Jiangcheng Pharmaceuticals Bankruptcy Plan onto his desk like a grenade.
"Sign. Now."
"Sis!" Lin Feng leapt up, knocking over a potted plant. Dirt flew everywhere as he gestured wildly. "This is Grandpa's three-generation legacy!"
Lin Xue calmly stomped the rolling "money tree" plant under her heel. "Legacy? Last month, the tax office seized our assets and found our most valuable item was the cafeteria's 30-year-old pressure cooker. Even the cooker got a seizure sticker."
Leaning in until her perfume choked him, she hissed, "Know why you inherited this dump? Because you're the only sucker in the family dumb enough to take it!"
BOOM!
The building shook as black smoke billowed from the warehouse. Lin Feng jumped; Lin Xue just smirked. "Congrats, your CEO tenure might break the world record for shortest ever. Buy life insurance ASAP—list me as beneficiary."
Later, Lin Feng tiptoed into the warehouse with his phone flashlight, muttering, "This place is darker than a Tomb Raider reboot."
Rustle.
"WHO'S THERE?!" He grabbed a mop, swinging it wildly. "I know Thai boxing! Back off! I've got… $28 in Alipay! Take it!"
Moonlight pierced a hole in the roof, revealing a rusty mooncake box labeled 1998 Mid-Autumn Festival. Inside? Faded Calabash Brothers trading cards and a bronze key with a weird bird design.
"This thing's older than me—"
"DROP IT!" A screech made him fumble the key into a drain.
At dinner, Lin Feng waved a drumstick like a motivational speaker. "We're NOT bankrupting! This key's Grandpa's secret treasure—"
"No talking while eating," his mother Su Wan snapped, "accidentally" spilling tea on his limited-edition sneakers.
"Oops. Clumsy me." Her eyelashes fluttered nervously—a tell he hadn't seen since Dad announced his "immortality elixir" project at New Year's.
Midnight. Toilet. Lin Feng FaceTimed his buddy: "Er Mao! Google this symbol—looks like a pigeon hit by a truck!"
"Dude, I'm in the Maldives on my honeymoon!"
"Remember that cross-dressing bartender you—"
"SEND THE PIC NOW," Er Mao hissed.
Minutes later, a text arrived: "Grey Sparrow—pharma group founded 1946, vanished 1953. Stay away unless you want Resident Evil IRL."
Lin Feng froze. Outside dawn light crept over his drool-stained Bankruptcy Law textbook as Auntie Wang chased a thieving cat with the infamous pressure cooker.