Chapter One: Crossing Over

A woman dressed in a pure black suit jacket, a black skirt, and towering six-inch high heels stood in a black, minimalist office. Her head was bowed respectfully as she spoke, a hint of persuasion threading through her tone.

“Boss, you’ve already sent our people out to search for three years, but there’s still no news of the old man. Shouldn’t we give up by now?”

It seemed as if she was the only person in the vast, black office, speaking to the empty air itself.

A woman’s voice drifted from behind the understated and luxurious black boss’s chair, half laughing, half not. “Give up? Xi, are you joking?”

Xi raised her head slightly, gazing at the back of the chair facing her. She couldn’t see the person seated there, nor guess her expression. She only knew that the one reclining behind that chair was her boss.

And her boss must have been resting her eyes, as she always did when she found Xi’s words laughable.

“Boss, we’ve searched for that old man for three years—three whole years! You’ve sent countless people to comb the earth as if searching for a needle in the sea, yet there’s been no news at all!” Xi’s voice gradually rose, her emotions threatening to spill over for reasons she could not control.

“Are you questioning my decision, Xi? Or do you intend to make decisions on my behalf, hmm?” The voice from behind the chair came again.

The boss’s voice was always so calm, never angry or pleased, yet it made one’s heart tremble.

Xi thought this to herself as cold sweat broke out on her forehead, and she bowed her head even lower.

She knew the boss despised others making her decisions, but even so, she wanted to take the risk. She didn’t wish to see her boss be so stubborn. Why couldn’t she just let go? Why cling so tightly to this obsession?

Yes, that old man meant something different to her boss.

Yes, he had given her the only warmth and love she’d ever known in this world, even doting on her like a true parent.

But why, why did he leave without a word, letting her boss search for him so painfully for three years? Three years, and with all her boss’s power, not a single trace of him had been found.

Did he know her boss had once nearly lost her life, used by others, in the pursuit of his whereabouts?

Xi could not understand why her boss was so determined to find that old man, why she was willing to give up everything for the barest scrap of news about him.

Fine veins stood out on Xi’s face, making her look almost fierce. She could no longer hide the anger and frustration welling up inside her, but she had to endure it.

Beep beep beep.

Suddenly, a crisp ringtone pierced the silence, making Xi feel as though she were standing alone in a vast, empty space.

Startled, she quickly pulled out her phone and hurried from the room, covering the receiver with her hand as she answered. A moment later, a measured knocking sounded at the door. Pausing, Xi opened the door and re-entered.

Her voice was slightly unsteady, barely restrained. “Boss, I apologize for what I just said and did. I was wrong. I have no right to make decisions for you.”

“Hmm?”

A single syllable made Xi’s heart skip a beat, but all she could do was stand straight, as if a soldier at attention.

“News has come in. The old man has appeared on Devil’s Isle. Our people are already searching for him. I believe they’ll find him as quickly as possible.” Xi forced her tone to remain calm; she knew her boss disliked those who wore their emotions openly.

“Oh? Very well. I look forward to your good news.”

There was barely contained joy in the voice behind the chair, and Xi exhaled in relief, knowing this news would surely please her boss.

Another rhythmic knock sounded at the door, and Xi turned immediately to open it.

“Secretary Xi, good evening. The general manager of Yang Corporation is waiting in the conference room for the chairman. Would you please inform her?”

“Thank you, I will.”

As soon as Xi finished speaking, she saw a familiar figure flash past her, appearing ahead.

“Let’s go.”

“Yes, Chairman.”

Xi stood where she was, watching her boss’s figure recede into the distance, her gaze filled with awe and reverence. This was her boss, the chairman of Sitong Group—Yao Sitong.

Yao Sitong—a name known to all. At just twenty years old, she inherited her family’s business, and through her own skill and determination, led Sitong Group into the nation’s top ten. Her methods were decisive and bold, rivaling any man in the business world. She was breathtakingly beautiful and shrouded in mystery, the object of every young heir’s pursuit.

But her boss, Yao Sitong, was far more than that.

Thinking of this, Xi straightened her back, a smile at her lips and unconcealed pride and heartache in her eyes.

Yes—pride and heartache, tangled together in such a complex feeling.

For Yao Sitong was an orphan. She should have been the carefree little princess of Sitong Group, but at the age of six, a tragic accident took both her parents. The family business was seized by so-called relatives, and she was taken away by people from a covert organization.

She sacrificed everything for that organization, her boss did, and after exhausting all her efforts, managed to leave. Yet she was still bound to serve whenever the organization called, or else she could not truly be free.

A former secret agent, her boss held great influence in the underworld. People there respected and feared her, always giving her due deference. She skillfully regained Sitong Group, inheriting her parents’ legacy, and became the formidable leader she was today.

Along the winding mountain road, trees grew thick, shrouding the way in darkness; even the bright moonlight struggled to pierce it.

After a long and exhausting day, Yao Sitong parked her limited-edition purple Rolls-Royce in the villa garage. Glancing at the roiling clouds above, she mused what a restless Mid-Autumn night it was, then shook her head and entered the house.

The villa shone with brilliant light but was utterly empty. This was Yao Sitong’s custom—every year on the Mid-Autumn Festival, she would dismiss all the servants and spend the night alone in this vast home.

After changing into something comfortable, Yao Sitong wandered to the study, poured herself a glass of red wine, filling it just over halfway, and sank into the high-backed chair, utterly relaxed, gently swirling the crimson wine in her glass.

Through the glass, she noticed a letter on the desk, a slip of paper lying atop it. She paused, set the wine down, and picked up the note.

“Boss, I’m sorry. We were a step too late and couldn’t find the old man, but we did discover a letter in his bedroom. I’ve left it on your desk. —Xi.”

Yao Sitong’s hand trembled, almost dropping the note. Her gaze fixed on the envelope on the desk as she slowly reached out with shaking hands and opened it.

“Yao’er, I know you don’t understand why I left, nor why you never gave up searching for me these three years. Today, I want to tell you: we will meet again very soon. I will be waiting for you.”

The handwriting was as familiar as ever—bold and powerful, radiating warmth that seemed to encircle her.

“Master, why—why did you leave so completely after discovering the fox mark on my back under the Mid-Autumn moon? It’s been three years without a single word from you! Don’t you know you’re the only family I have in this world? Don’t you know how I long for your warmth?”

Yao Sitong’s body shook. She could endure it no longer and curled herself into her large chair, hugging her knees, her shoulders heaving with muffled sobs.

The letter, fluttering in the air, seemed to mirror her smallness and helplessness.

Yes, Yao Sitong longed for him, because she was an orphan. In this world, no matter what she accomplished, she was alone—always, unfailingly alone. Until she met her master, that kindly old man who taught her ancient martial arts, who cherished her, who brought her warmth and the experience of love.

“Master, where are you?” She stood, shouting hoarsely at the full moon outside the window. Her eyes were bloodshot, red as fire.

She remembered that Mid-Autumn night clearly, for it was then that her master had accidentally glimpsed the fox mark on her back. From that moment, the master who had given her all warmth and love left her, vanishing without a trace.

A fierce wind rose, billowing the curtains. Rain poured down, pelting the glass, and the world seemed to darken, as if to prove Yao Sitong’s unspoken prediction—this truly was a restless Mid-Autumn night.

The wind howled louder, tearing countless maple leaves from the trees and hurling them into Yao Sitong’s study. Shielding her eyes with one hand, she struggled through the gale, trying to close the French windows.

Thunder crashed, and a blue-violet bolt of lightning split the sky, striking straight towards Yao Sitong.

Was that… a fox?

Just before she lost consciousness, Yao Sitong saw, within the full moon, the silhouette of a fox—identical to the mark on her back.

Then darkness claimed her, and she collapsed to the floor.