Within an estate of ancient architectural charm, featuring pavilions, waterside corridors, ornate towers, and halls, there was an atmosphere of restrained grandeur and inherent elegance.

In this era of rapid technological advancement and soaring property prices, possessing such a residence even this far out in the suburbs—beyond the Sixth Ring—required immense influence, marked by both wealth and status.

Yet, the original owner of this estate had passed away several years prior. His children were now abroad, leaving only a few of his grand-nephews and nieces to inhabit the property. It was estimated that, beneath the shifting tides of power and fortune, this grand residence would soon welcome a new master.

Inside a study that had been modernized with contemporary décor, two men and one woman were engaged in hushed conversation behind closed doors.

Outside the study, a vigilant young man stood guard in the courtyard, watching their perimeter.

“I think that kid is too comfortable to want to leave,” said a man in his mid-thirties, standing about 1.70 meters tall, of medium build, sporting a neat, trimmed goatee.

“In my opinion, we should just make our move right here!” the other man grumbled impatiently. He was under thirty, barely 1.62 or 1.63 meters tall, but solidly built, with a two-inch-long, thin scar running across his cheek.

The goatee-wearer showed a flicker of interest and turned to the woman, asking, “Youyou, what do you think?”

“Haven’t I already said it? Absolutely no moving against him in the capital,” the woman called Youyou replied with clear dissatisfaction. “There are too many things to guard against here; it’s too easy to slip up.”

“What’s the big deal? A few security guards and road surveillance cameras?” the scarred man scoffed. “Just arrange some manpower to cut the surveillance lines. It’s only a few guards; we can just sneak past them, right?”

“Then you two do it. I’m out!” Youyou abruptly stood up from her chair, revealing a height that actually surpassed the goatee-wearer’s by a small margin. She stood tall and straight, her presence far outshining both men.

“Youyou, don’t be angry,” the goatee-wearer quickly shot a warning glance at the scarred man and soothed her, “Xiaoxin is just impatient. Don’t listen to his nonsense.”

Youyou snorted and cast a sidelong glance at the sycophantic scarred man. “Qu Xin, if you think your wings are strong enough and you don’t need me, just say it plainly, and I’ll leave right now. I’ll have nothing more to do with this matter. But if you think you still can’t manage without me, your cousin, then shut your foul mouth. From now on, you’ll do exactly as I say!”

The goatee-wearer frantically signaled Qu Xin. The latter pouted sullenly. “Fine, I was wrong. I’ll keep my mouth shut from now on.”

Seeing that he had backed down, Youyou’s expression turned serious, and she addressed the two of them in a low, firm voice: “Let me reiterate: this Wang Zhuo is extremely skilled. Three or four ordinary men won’t even get a chance to get close. And you both know he isn’t afraid of guns—we have precedent for that. Therefore, this must be solved through strategy. Do you understand?”

“Yes, you’re right,” the goatee-wearer nodded quickly.

The scarred man, Qu Xin, kept quiet until Youyou looked at him, whereupon he reluctantly nodded in agreement.

“The Qu family, in our generation, has truly declined. This is a great opportunity for a resurgence. You must not disappoint me,” Youyou said with deep sincerity. “Success or failure hinges on this one attempt. Don't get impatient; tackling something this significant requires the utmost patience.”

This time, both the goatee-wearer and Qu Xin nodded along. After the Old Master passed away, the Qu family scattered like birds when a tree falls. Now, only Qu Jingyou, the direct descendant whose parents died young, along with the goatee-wearing Qu Feng and the scarred Qu Xin, were holding the line. The other descendants had either emigrated or split off from the main family, no longer possessing the glory of the past.

When the Old Master was alive, he was immensely powerful but had also made many enemies. Unfortunately, the connections he left behind were insufficient, and coupled with bad luck during the recent political transitions, the family branches withered. Thus, the uncles and elder cousins had abandoned their domestic ventures and fled overseas, partly to guard against retaliation from the Old Master’s former political adversaries, and partly just to enjoy life.

In truth, Qu Jingyou could have sold off her assets, immigrated to become a wealthy socialite, or gone far away to start a new life. But she refused to fade into obscurity or secure her position through an advantageous marriage. She was an ambitious woman at heart, determined to carve out an empire of her own to show all those uncles and brothers.

Her status as a woman was both a disadvantage and an advantage. While it constrained her development, it also meant that her grandfather’s political enemies would likely hesitate to strike at a mere woman. However, trying to rebuild without any backing was extraordinarily difficult. Therefore, she racked her brains and finally devised a shortcut.

That shortcut was Wang Zhuo.

Wang Zhuo was undeniably wealthy, but no one carried money on their person; it was all tied up in assets or deposited in banks. Qu Jingyou deeply understood the power of the state apparatus; kidnapping him for ransom was something she considered but quickly dismissed.

There were countless targets suitable for kidnapping—Wang Zhuo wouldn’t be the one to fall into that category. But in terms of ‘human capital,’ Wang Zhuo was one of the very few who were priceless. His mind held, at the very least, the formula for ‘Dynasty Infinite,’ the manufacturing technology for ‘Angel,’ and the formula for ‘Rebirth.’

The latter two were perhaps manageable. The Angel technology could be secretly sold once to Western nations; its shelf life was short, potentially worth hundreds of millions or even billions of US dollars or Euros, or perhaps only tens of millions. The market potential for Rebirth was still unclear. But Dynasty Infinite was a massive gold mine, and crucially, it was "unguarded"!

A scientific technology for which no patent had been filed meant that while it wouldn't lose its exclusivity after the fifty-year patent term expired, it also meant it lacked copyright protection. If someone managed to steal the technology and file for a patent, they would effectively be robbing the technique, able to use patent law to demand royalties from the original developer!

Even more drastically, they could strip the original owner of usage rights and start fresh, building everything from the ground up!

Just how large a business was Dynasty Infinite?

To put it simply: if unleashed onto the global market, earning over ten billion annually would not be a problem. Think about it—isn't that far more lucrative than kidnapping ten Li Zekui? It was like uprooting an entire money tree!

Therefore, this was a massive undertaking, leaving no room for error. If anything went wrong, her family background would absolutely not protect her. Ten years ago, she might have been a favored daughter of heaven, but to a rising power like Wang Zhuo, she was now merely a tall, leggy beauty, someone who easily piqued male desire. Her status as a member of a fallen house offered no intimidation; rather, it might incite a desire for conquest.

Qu Jingyou could even imagine the thoughts running through a man’s mind: ‘Weren’t they so powerful back then? So what? I still got to ride his granddaughter.’ Because of this, she risked everything, just for a chance to finally stand tall and earn respect!

Qu Feng stroked his goatee and said, “Youyou, I agree that being cautious is right, but we need an actual plan, don’t we? Just stalling day after day leads nowhere.”

“Poison him,” Qu Jingyou replied succinctly. “There is no method more reliable than this. As long as we slip the drug into his food undetected, it won’t matter how strong he is; he’ll be completely at our mercy.”

Qu Xin’s eyes lit up, and he quickly pressed, “When do we do it? How do we do it?”

“What do you think we’ve been monitoring him for all this time?” Qu Jingyou glared at him without patience. “Wasn’t it to map out his routines and find an opportunity?”

...

Dawn.

Miaofeng Mountain Villa.

The property management garbage truck had already loaded and collected the trash bags from all the residences early in the morning, including the bag from Wang Zhuo’s villa. However, this specific bag was discreetly separated by the staff and tucked into a corner under the truck bed.

With a hundred-yuan red envelope at stake, the property employees didn't mind handing over the trash of a certain resident to someone waiting halfway, just after exiting the villa area. Simply tossing it down into the deserted alley below allowed them to earn a hundred yuan every day. What’s not to like?

As for why the other party would engage in such a strange activity, the staff just smiled. Paparazzi! It wasn't unusual for them to sift through the trash from a villa frequented by major celebrities, looking for used condoms or sanitary napkins!

Thus, after analyzing one bag of trash, the findings were quickly reported back to the Qu family side.

After several consecutive days of finding no condoms, Qu Feng had a realization. “Xiaoxin, I’ll pay a thousand yuan that Ning Yao is taking birth control pills.”

“If she’s taking pills, where are the pill bottles and the foil blister packs?” Qu Xin argued, unwilling to concede. “I bet she’s not taking them. They’re using withdrawal!”

Qu Jingyou snorted, utterly uninterested in this pointless topic, and sharply interjected, “What withdrawal? There was no tissue paper smeared with tadpoles in the trash.”

“Then she ate them!” Qu Xin said with a sly grin, though he had actually guessed half the answer correctly.

Qu Jingyou was only a month older than him, barely qualifying as his distant cousin. They had grown up together, and their conversations were never shy of crude topics—otherwise, Qu Jingyou wouldn't have brought such an impetuous fellow as him into such a major operation.

Ignoring his rambling, Qu Jingyou snorted and stopped paying attention to him. She gazed thoughtfully at the trash analysis report submitted by her subordinates. There were many empty bottles of purified bottled water, along with a large quantity of various fruit peels and cores. It seemed Wang Zhuo habitually drank pure water and fruit juice, not caring much for powdered fruit mixes, soft drinks, or cola.

Just then, new intelligence arrived: the young married woman named Ruan Mingqing had driven her car into Wang Zhuo’s villa again.

“This Wang Zhuo is quite the womanizer. He seems to prefer older women,” Qu Xin commented casually. “Do you think he ever gets bored? I’d rather drive out for a spin than waste time on that.”

Some people simply have a low libido, and Qu Xin was one of them. Qu Jingyou pursed her lips, and a bold idea suddenly flashed through her mind. Since Wang Zhuo had a weakness for beautiful women, was there any way she could exploit that?