Chapter 19 — A Day as a Janitor

His expression suddenly plummeted into frost. Nathan opened the second scanned file—the visitor logbook of the convalescent center. The visiting entity was listed simply as the Board of Directors Office, headed by Arthur. Yet the name in the accompanying person’s column had been heavily blackened out. The forensic auditor magnified the digital image, deploying specialized filters to meticulously reconstruct the pixels beneath. Slowly, three distinct characters materialized from the dark smudge: Paul Tao.

The defense attorney standing directly behind Steven Shen visibly paled. Paul had already been detained by the police; he was the nephew of the late Chairman Cheng, and the very culprit who had set fire to the abandoned factory and stolen the ledger. If he had simultaneously made an appearance at the convalescent center, the entire web of conspiracy instantly snapped into a cohesive, unbreakable chain. Steven shed his chilling smile.

I leveled my gaze at him and asked, “Executive Director Steven, is Paul Tao yet another person you claim never to have met?”

With icy detachment, he replied, “I have crossed paths with countless individuals in my lifetime. That hardly implies I orchestrated their actions.”

“Very well,” I countered. “Then we shall simply wait for Paul to find his voice.”

Heavy footsteps echoed from the corridor outside. An officer escorted a young nurse into the room. Her face was ashen, a thick strip of white gauze wrapped tightly around her forehead. Nathan stepped forward immediately.

“Are you well enough to speak?”

The nurse gave a faint nod. Her tear-filled eyes drifted toward the elderly chairman. “Chairman Shen, I am truly sorry. I failed to protect the room.”

Shen's voice softened instantly, devoid of its usual sternness. “No blame falls upon you, child.”

She extended a trembling finger toward Arthur. “He led a group of men inside, claiming they were dispatched by the Board Office for routine maintenance. When I refused them entry, they shoved me violently into the supply closet. I heard them whispering that they had to secure the elder’s personal seal immediately, before the faction loyal to Jade could unearth the roster.”

The moment my name was uttered, every eye in the conference room shifted back to me. Steven suddenly cut in, his voice sharp. “She has been unconscious all night. It is entirely possible her memory has become scrambled.”

Panic flared in the nurse’s eyes. “I am telling the truth! I even heard them make a phone call. The person on the other end insisted the nine o'clock board meeting must proceed as planned, and if Chairman Shen refused to sign, they were to use the duplicate seal.”

Li Zheng-yi pressed her, “Whose voice was on the other end of that line?”

The nurse stared directly at Steven. “It sounded remarkably like him.”

Steven let out a derisive scoff. “Resemblance is hardly admissible evidence.”

I stared fixedly at the nurse’s clenched fist, noticing the subtle tension in her fingers. “Is there something else you are concealing?”

Startled, she hesitated for a fraction of a second before reaching into her uniform pocket and withdrawing a torn fragment of paper. “I retrieved this from the floor right beside the paper shredder. This was all I could salvage.”

Nathan took the scrap from her trembling hand and aligned its jagged edge with the previous authorization document. The two halves locked together seamlessly, sealing the gap with absolute precision. Typed upon the joined paper were the words: Request for temporary utilization of authorization equipment. Proposer: Arthur. Approver: Steven Shen. The date stamped at the bottom was yesterday.

Finally, Steven rose from his chair. “Fabrication.”

“To hear you tell it,” I said evenly, “every single piece of evidence pointing to your guilt is a fabrication, while any unilateral resolution favoring your ambitions is gospel truth.”

He glared at me with pure venom. “Jade, what on earth is it that you truly want?”

I enunciated every single syllable with deliberate force. “I want you to return what has been plundered from the veteran employees. I want every stolen vestige of authority restored to its rightful place. And I want every last conspirator who attempted to make a scapegoat of me to face their reckoning.”

Steven burst into a sudden, mocking laugh. “How deeply touching. Unfortunately for you, more than half of the board members have already confirmed their remote attendance. When nine o'clock strikes, the proceeding will advance.”

Nathan’s expression was grim. “Chairman Shen, the meeting links have already been dispatched, and the Secretariat’s central system has been locked down.”

The elder Shen looked toward Zheng-yi, who murmured in a low, grave tone, “If their resolution is forcefully passed, overturning it later will prove an insurmountable legal labyrinth.”

A sudden flash of memory pierced my mind—the oily paper packet hidden within the iron drum at the burned-out factory. Beneath the photographic negative lay something far more significant than a mere signature. I turned my eyes to the elder Shen.

“Grandfather Shen, when the Founding Guarantor Roster was ratified thirty-two years ago, was there not an accompanying special covenant?”

The old man’s head jerked upward.

I continued, “It pertained to the mandatory physical presence of the founding witnesses whenever the board underwent profound structural transformations or shifts in control.”

His gaze ignited with sudden clarity. But for the very first time, the color drained entirely from Steven’s face.

The elder Shen instructed Nathan to retrieve the authentic ledger and the oil-paper package from the old factory without delay. The moment the red-bound volume was laid upon the mahogany conference table, a heavy, suffocating silence fell over the room. This was no ordinary register; it was a sacred covenant forged in the crucible of Viantai’s most destitute years, sealed with the sweat and loyalty of men who had built the enterprise from dust.

Steven sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “A historical guarantee roster for low-level workers cannot possibly supersede the modern corporate charter.”

“Naturally not,” I replied smoothly. “Yet it serves to prove precisely who is missing from the quorum you are so desperately attempting to convene.”

The elder Shen flicked open the aged pages, coming to rest upon the final leaf. The seventeen names preceding it represented the specially protected veterans of the founding era. But pasted onto the back cover was an amber-tinted supplemental agreement, yellowed by time. Though the ink had faded, the crimson corporate seal remained shockingly vivid.

With a low, solemn voice, the old man read aloud: “Regarding all critical matters concerning the control of Viantai, the succession of the chairmanship, and any alteration to the founding guarantee protocols, the surviving founding witnesses must be formally summoned to attend and present testimony. Any resolution enacted in contravention of this mandate, or in the absence of such notification, shall be deemed null and void concerning all matters governed by the founding guarantee.”

Without hesitation, Zheng-yi reached out and claimed the ledger.