The dinner was a masterclass in psychological warfare.
The food was exquisite. Small plates. Precision cuts. Things I didn't have names for. But no one was here for the food.
The conversation was a minefield. Every sentence had a tripwire.
Song Mei directed the flow of the discussion from the head of the table. She didn't raise her voice. She didn't need to. She just asked questions and watched who answered.
She subtly steered the politicians and developers to highlight the massive, multi-billion-dollar infrastructure projects the Song Dynasty Trust was currently funding. A new bridge. A new ferry terminal. Renovations to the historic district. She let them talk about budgets and timelines and municipal approvals.
She was building a wall of legitimate wealth around herself. Brick by brick. Daring Li to try and scale it. _This is what real power looks like,_ she was saying without saying it. _Your streets don't matter next to this._
