Guide to Rising to Power as a Wife in Beijing's Elite Circle

Early May, at the Shadow Transmission Systems building.

When Chen Nuo pushed open the door to Chen Wei's office, Chen Wei was standing by the window with her back to her. But Chen Nuo noticed that she was clutching a piece of paper tightly in her hand, her knuckles white.

"Sister Chen Wei."

Chen Wei did not turn around. "Sun Xintong is dead."

Chen Nuo paused for a moment, watching Chen Wei's back, waiting for what she would say next.

"Early yesterday morning, in the detention room. The forensic doctor said it was sudden cardiac death." Chen Wei turned around, placed the note on the table, and pushed it towards us.

Chen Nuo glanced down at the document; it was an internal report, only three lines long, with no heading, no signature, not even an official seal. The message of such a report was clear: the fewer people who knew about this, the better. Sudden cardiac death was the most convenient way to die. No explanation needed, no investigation required, no responsibility.

"He carried the entire supply chain on his own," Chen Wei said in a low voice. "He settled all accounts. Clean and simple."

But she knew this day would come, from the day Sun Xintong was arrested. Because this wasn't just Sun Xintong's affair. He had people behind him, people with more power, more connections, and more resources than him.

They wouldn't let Sun Xintong speak, wouldn't let him live until the trial, and wouldn't let him utter their names. So Sun Xintong died in detention.

"Where's the money? The workers' wages?"

Chen Wei put down her teacup, pulled a document from the pile, and pushed it in front of her. "I checked. All of Sun Xintong's accounts combined have less than 200,000 yuan. That money was transferred away before the project was accepted."

Chen Nuo opened the document and read it page by page. Transfer records, receiving accounts, timelines—every single transaction clearly pointed overseas. But once overseas, the money stopped. "What about the bank? How much is left in the margin account?"

"The money in the margin account has been frozen by the bank. They said Sun Xintong is dead and he needs to come in person to unfreeze it. But he has already been cremated."

She paused, "The bank said it's the rule. When a depositor dies, the heirs need to provide a notarized certificate, a death certificate, and proof of inheritance rights, and all heirs must be present to sign. Sun Xintong's wife's parents are abroad, so even if all the procedures are completed, the bank still needs to review them. The review period is three to six months."

Three months to six months. The workers are desperately waiting for the money to save their lives, and the bank tells them to wait another six months. Will the money still be there after six months? Nobody knows. Because in those six months, the money could be used for financial management, investment, or deductions.

Once the storm has passed, the workers' voices have died down, and the media has stopped reporting on it, this money will unknowingly end up in the pockets of certain people at the top. All it takes is bribing a scapegoat to take the blame, and the bank can say that it was the employee's own behavior and had nothing to do with the company.

Banks worldwide operate this way: when you deposit money, all you need is your ID and bank card—it's a matter of minutes. But when you withdraw it, they ask if you've used it for fraud, money laundering, or gambling.

One hundred capitalists, one hundred and one, wouldn't want you to touch this money. Especially after the cardholder dies, they'll delay or postpone the payment as much as possible. This is called a dead debt. It's not that the debt is dead, it's that the person's heart is dead.

Chen Wei leaned back in her chair, looking at the chandelier on the ceiling. "Xiao Chen, Sun Xintong's case can't just end like this. There are people behind him, and those people are still around. Where did all that money go? Who helped him transfer it? Who received it overseas? We can't let any of these people get away with it."

Chen Wei wanted to strike while the iron was hot and expose the forces behind Sun Xintong. If she did, Sun Xintong would be the next Guo Huaimin, firmly holding the top position in the Shadow Transmission System, and no one would dare to touch her. But what if she didn't expose them?

But this wasn't for justice; it was for power. If she solved this case, she could secure her position. And once she was secure, no one could touch her. Chen Wei had no background, no powerful connections, no way out. Her only asset was the knife in her hand.

"Sister Chen Wei, before Sun Xintong got into trouble, Ning Zetong would always toast him."

Chen Wei paused for a moment.

"Ning Zetong, the chief inspector of the Discipline Inspection Commission, a department-level official. Even he has to toast Sun Xintong. Think about it, who's behind Sun Xintong? Do we have enough real power to go against Ning Zetong? No. If something goes wrong, Ning Zetong and Luo Zhendong will definitely join forces to turn against us. What can we use to defend ourselves?"

"Then tell me, what are we going to do? Just let it go like this? What about the workers' wages?"

"Like a mute eating bitter melon."