The private jet landed smoothly on the outskirts of Wuhan, cutting through the thick morning fog that clung to the ground. The moment the wheels touched down, Wu Haoyu was already out of his seat, his face grim and tense. Huang Jiang and Wu Qiang followed closely behind, their expressions equally grim. They were racing against time, but deep in their hearts, each man carried the same fear: they were already too late.
The SUV waiting for them outside the private airstrip sped through the city streets, escorted by a convoy of the Huang family's best guards. No one spoke, but the air inside the vehicle was suffocating with anxiety and urgency. Wu Haoyu's mind raced with scenarios—each one worse than the last. He had replayed the events leading up to Yanyan's kidnapping over and over in his head, blaming himself for not insisting on more security, for not being there when she needed him.