Transmigration; Married to My Ex-Fiancé's Uncle-Chapter 139; Night out (e)

"But if she turns against us..."

"We’re finished."

He stepped closer to his wife.

"You must reach her before someone else does."

"Someone else?"

"Every wealthy family in the country will want her," Lu Cheng said grimly. " She’s rich, influential, and adored. Vulnerable and Useful."

Madam Lu stared at Shuyin’s name in her contacts.

"I’ll keep calling," she whispered. "Every hour if I have to."

"We need her," Lu Cheng said. "Before someone else realizes she’s the most powerful piece on the board."

Madam Lu’s eyes sharpened.

"Whoever controls her," she said, "controls the narrative. Controls public sentiment. Controls whether our family survives."

Lu Cheng raised his glass.

" Then let’s hope she’s still the sweet, manageable girl we remember."

They both looked at Madam Lu’s unanswered calls.

But somewhere in the city, Lin Shuyin, no longer sweet, no longer manageable, was completely unreachable.

And that terrified them more than they dared admit.

NIGHT OUT

SUNSET VILLA

Soon, the car pulled into the circular driveway of Sunset Villa, tires crunching on perfectly maintained gravel.

The property was a private sanctuary in one of the city’s most exclusive neighborhoods, the kind of place where high walls and manicured gardens weren’t just aesthetic choices but declarations of wealth and separation from the ordinary world. Private security patrolled the entrance in discreet black uniforms, their presence felt more than seen.

The engine shut with a soft purr parking at the parking lot.

Shuyin stepped out, brushing past Ting Fei with a dismissive wave that somehow managed to be both grateful and imperious.

She paused for a moment on the stone pathway, taking in the villa that was now legally, irrevocably her friends’.

Inside, she could hear laughter, loud, familiar, and wonderfully chaotic. The sound of women who’d survived hell together and came out the other side with their spirits not just intact but sharpened to razor edges.

Her people.

She opened the door to the kitchen, and the sound hit her like a wave: music playing from someone’s phone, the clink of bottles, Blade’s distinctive cackle rising above it all.

Blade was perched on the marble counter as she owned it, hair still damp from a shower, ripped jeans hugging her legs in a way that was probably illegal in several conservative provinces. Tattoos peeked from her tank top, a snake winding up her left arm, something that might have been Chinese characters or might have been a very artistic mistake on her right shoulder. A beer bottle dangled from her fingers, condensation dripping onto the expensive marble.

Razor stood at the stove, surprisingly domestic in an apron that said "Kiss the Cook" in faded English letters. Her hair was pulled back in a practical braid, and her casual clothes, yoga pants, and an oversized sweater suited her far better than the prison uniform ever had. She stirred something that smelled genuinely delicious, her movements efficient and precise.

Tank, massive and imposing even in civilian clothes, sat at the kitchen island with her phone, scrolling and occasionally snorting at whatever she found amusing. Her legs, muscled like tree trunks, were crossed at the ankle, and she’d somehow managed to make sweatpants and a tank top look intimidating.

All three froze when they saw Shuyin in the doorway.

Then their faces split into identical grins.

"Princess!" Blade jumped off the counter with zero regard for the beer bottle that nearly went flying, catching it at the last second with the kind of reflexes that came from years of prison brawls. "Still in one piece! How’d it go? Did you make him cry? Please tell me you made him cry."

" Hello girls...."

Shuyin smiled, allowing herself a rare moment of genuine relief, letting her shoulders drop from the perfect posture she’d maintained all day.

"Better than expected," she said, stepping into the warm chaos of the kitchen. "Everything’s stabilized. The public narrative shifted exactly how we wanted. And...." She paused for dramatic effect, watching their faces. "....I’m significantly wealthier than I was this morning."

"Significantly?" Razor asked, one eyebrow rising as she continued stirring whatever was in the pot. "How significantly are we talking? Like ’buy a nice car’ significantly or ’buy a nice house’ significantly?"

Shuyin’s grin widened, showing her teeth.

"ONE BILLION YUAN."

Dead silence.

The music kept playing, but everything else stopped, Blade mid-sip of her beer, Razor’s spoon frozen over the pot, Tank’s scrolling finger hovering over her phone screen.

Then chaos erupted.

"A BILLION?!" Blade’s shriek could probably be heard in the next province. She actually jumped up and down, beer sloshing everywhere. "Oh my Goodness! Oh my GOD! Princess, you’re RICH!"

"We’re aware of numbers, Blade," Razor said dryly, but her eyes were wide, her usual composure cracked by genuine shock. "Holy shit. A billion. With a B."

"Champagne every night, ladies!" Blade was still bouncing. "Scratch that, we can drink champagne for LIFE! We can BATHE in champagne!"

Tank finally looked up from her phone, a slow smile spreading across her face.

"Prison to billionaire pipeline, baby," she said, raising her beer in salute. "That’s got to be some kind of record."

"Billionaire pipeline, technically," Shuyin corrected, laughing at their reactions, feeling lighter than she had in months. Maybe years. "But who’s counting?"

"Me! I’m counting!" Blade grabbed Shuyin’s hands and spun her around the kitchen, nearly knocking over a chair. "This means FREEDOM! Real freedom! We can do whatever we want! Go wherever we want! Buy whatever we want!"

"We can eat first," Razor cut in, her practical nature reasserting itself as she ladled soup into bowls with steady hands. "Before all your excitement destroys my kitchen. And yes, I’m calling it mine now because I’m the only one who cooks in this place."

"Fair," Tank agreed, finally setting down her phone and moving to help distribute bowls.

They gathered around the kitchen island, not the formal dining room, because none of them were formal dining room people, and Shuyin recounted the day’s events over Razor’s surprisingly delicious soup.