The morning sun rose over Yanjing, casting bright gold light across the glass facades of Financial Street.
At exactly 9:00 AM, a convoy of one hundred black vehicles turned onto the main boulevard.
Sleek Audi sedans, heavy Ninth Bureau tactical SUVs, and marked state liquidator vans filled all six lanes. Red and blue emergency lights flashed silently against the polished granite of the skyscraper lobbies.
Pedestrians on the sidewalks stopped in their tracks. Office workers on their morning coffee runs pointed their smartphones at the endless line of vehicles.
At the head of the convoy rode a black Maybach.
The passenger door opened, and Shen Qiaoqiao stepped onto the sidewalk. She wore a sharp navy-blue wool trench coat, her wire-rimmed glasses catching the crisp winter sunlight. Under her left arm, she held an embossed leather portfolio containing one hundred and twenty court foreclosure judgments.
Beside her, CEO Su Wan stepped out in an elegant charcoal-gray overcoat, holding a slim tablet that tracked real-time asset registrations.
Behind them came PR Director Qin Haoran. He wore a plush mink-lined jacket over his bright yellow Taichu volunteer vest, holding a cardboard tray of four steaming cups of coffee. Above Qin Haoran’s head, his moral halo glowed with a proud, hard-earned score of Goodness: 81.2/100.
