At 10:03 in the morning, the central air conditioner in the conference room on the top floor of the Lu Group headquarters was delivering a cool breeze at a constant speed, but it could not dissipate the tense nerves of the senior executives in the room.
On the main seat of the long conference table, Lu Yanchen rested a silver-gray pen on his fingertips. The pen was handmade in Italy and was discreetly engraved with his initials. The cost of a single pen was enough for an ordinary white-collar worker to save for half a year. He was wearing a charcoal gray haute couture suit, the collar of his shirt was buttoned perfectly, and the wrinkle-free trouser line extended down his long straight legs to his shiny Oxford shoes. The entire portrait table was a precision instrument that operated accurately. Even the angle from which he lowered his eyes to look at the documents had an undeniable sense of oppression.
