FY - 28

On Monday, Zhao Youjin arrived promptly at Yaogu again.

The secretary came to report. Si Wen listened and responded faintly. This time, he didn’t say no to a meeting.

The secretary understood and went out to arrange for Zhao Youjin.

Si Wen signed the foreign trade contracts one by one. He calculated how much Zhao Youjin had lost in liquidated damages alone up to that day.

Zhao Youjin was led to the reception room.

The secretary poured her a glass of herbal tea and left.

She sat on the sofa, wearing a baseball cap, glasses, a mask, and a large jacket, fully covered.

If she weren’t desperate, she would never be sitting there on pins and needles.

The people she had involved and her partners had invested all their capital with her. The fact that they hadn’t sued her yet was considered merciful. She dared not approach them again.

Her “asset” could only tempt those men when she had money.

Indeed.

They were all people who had experienced society, weathered storms and rain. Money had already surpassed all desires and seized the high ground.

With money, came women, all kinds of women. The reason they would entertain Zhao Youjin was nothing more than the huge network of connections she could offer them and the convenience her status could provide. Otherwise, they’d have to be crazy to sleep with a fifty-year-old plastic surgery monster.

This time, Zhao Youjin used half of her connections to make this deal, which was supposed to yield double the profit upon arrival. All these people stood to gain. However, they overlooked the pirates, a group never in anyone’s plans.

Within her network, all her collaborators suffered losses. Those who hadn’t collaborated with her were unwilling to offer any assistance.

Outside her network, besides Dongsheng Pharmaceuticals, there were a few small pharmaceutical companies, but they seemed to have conspired with Si Wen, also shutting her out. She found it ridiculous. Who did these people think they were? If she weren’t in trouble, would she even spare them a glance?

Had they forgotten how they used to kneel before her like dogs, begging for her help? Ungrateful wretches.

Once she got through this ordeal, she would settle scores with every single one of these people who kicked her when she was down.

Sipping the clear tea from Dongsheng Pharmaceuticals, her eyes gradually narrowed.

Si Wen arrived after she had waited for about half an hour. His appearance was just as it had been when she first met him at the casino, but her impression of him was no longer just of a charming man. She felt his true nature was far more terrifying than how he had acted with the waiter.

He entered, sat in the central seat, and the secretary brought him a bottle of water. It was a glass bottle, without a label or wrapper, making the brand indiscernible.

Zhao Youjin didn’t want to waste time with useless pleasantries. Without waiting for him to speak, she eagerly asked: “Mr. Si, can you save me? No, not ‘can you.’ Please, Mr. Si, save me!”

She was like a stray dog, completely lacking the arrogance and superiority of their first meeting.

Si Wen said nothing, just took a sip of water.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, his throat’s lines like cocaine, one injection, one addiction.

How promiscuous was Zhao Youjin, crossing the river on a clay Buddha, yet still wet herself at the sight of him.

She clamped her legs together, gritting her teeth as she knelt on Si Wen’s lap: “Please! I know you have the goods I need!”

Si Wen put down the glass bottle and kicked her, hitting her squarely in the shoulder blade.

Zhao Youjin recoiled, her spine hitting the low table.

She gasped, her jaw clenching, and red streaks rapidly spread through her eyes.

It hurt immensely, physically and psychologically.

For many years, she had been cherished by everyone, no matter who they were or what their status, they were only fit to carry her shoes.

This was a huge contrast to her situation in front of Si Wen. She was in great pain.

Si Wen was expressionless: “You’re not worthy.”

Zhao Youjin managed to suppress her emotions, using clever words and sweet talk: “As long as you can save me, I can do anything for you. Anything. Anything you ask.”

Si Wen didn’t answer, saying: “Take off your hat and glasses.”

Zhao Youjin complied, not daring to harbor any seductive thoughts.

The wound on her face hadn’t scabbed over yet; it seemed to have inflamed and festered, certainly much worse than Zhou Yan’s.

Si Wen was quite satisfied with his creation. He raised his hand and splashed the half-empty bottle of water on the wound, wanting to see what kind of spectacle it would create.

The skin on the wound seemed to have healed, unaffected by the water. This was not good.

Zhao Youjin was splashed with water. At that moment, she gasped, otherwise, she thought she would suffocate.

He reached out his long hand, took the cigarette from the table, lit it, and took a puff.

Zhao Youjin had a bad feeling. Before she could react, Si Wen’s cigarette was already burning her wound.

She shrieked, her hands around her face, yet daring not to touch it. She kicked her legs, retreating backward frantically.

Si Wen watched her, still finding it not satisfying enough.

He took another bottle of water from the fridge and walked up to Zhao Youjin.

Zhao Youjin was terrified, desperately trying to hide.

Si Wen simply stepped on her foot, cutting off all her escape routes.

Zhao Youjin knelt down, kowtowing to him: “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have gone to Zhou Yan! I’m sorry! I was arrogant! I deserve to die! I deserve to be torn apart by five horses! I deserve to die! I deserve to die!”

Soon, her forehead was broken and bloody red.

Si Wen’s face remained without a shred of pity. He still splashed the water on her.

Zhao Youjin’s face, freshly burned by the cigarette, now got wet. She screamed, a heart-wrenching, agonizing sound that seemed utterly inhuman.

Si Wen had just begun to taste some pleasure, but enjoying this pleasure alone was just that—one pleasure, not double. If there was someone else involved, it wouldn’t be the same. He threw the glass bottle, sat down again, and said, “Willing to do anything for me? Anything I ask?”

Zhao Youjin’s face was ruined; what else was there that she couldn’t do?

She endured immense pain, nodded, drooling, tears and snot mixing, forming long strands.

“Guangnan Temple, Thursday. Come alone.”

Zhao Youjin looked up at him, her face trembling, her teeth chattering: “You... will... give me... the goods... then?”

Si Wen didn’t even want to look at her, answering perfunctorily: “Of course.”

Zhao Youjin wanted to believe, but dared not. She took a desperate leap and asked: “Can... we... sign... a contract?”

Si Wen called his secretary and asked her to get a recording pen to record a message for Zhao Youjin as he instructed.

The secretary brought it, and as Si Wen instructed, turned on the switch and spoke into the microphone: “Dongsheng Pharmaceuticals will donate the drugs on the list to Ms. Zhao Youjin after Thursday, provided Ms. Zhao attends the appointment on Thursday.”

After recording, Si Wen lifted his chin, and the secretary, understanding, handed the recording pen to Zhao Youjin.

Zhao Youjin felt that this item lacked credibility: “If it’s not you recording, I don’t dare take it.”

The secretary explained to her: “The medicine isn’t something I’m promising you; it’s something I’m promising you on behalf of Dongsheng Pharmaceuticals. That’s why I started by saying Dongsheng Pharmaceuticals, not my name.”

Zhao Youjin’s intelligence was average; she struggled with business, let alone playing dirty tricks. She was even less cunning than the men behind her.

The secretary’s words easily convinced her.

After seeing Zhao Youjin out, the secretary returned and stood before Si Wen: “Mr. Si.”

Si Wen adjusted his cuffs: “The condition is under control.”

The secretary opened her mouth, then closed it, only uttering four words: “Thank you, sir.”

Si Wen: “Go.”

The secretary turned and left.

Outside the door, her legs went weak, and she leaned against the wall.

Her mother had stage two breast cancer; the cancerous mass had spread to her lymph nodes and other areas. She relied on Si Wen to save her mother’s life, and Si Wen, having her mother in his grasp, never had to worry about her betrayal.

It wasn’t just her; everyone at Dongsheng Pharmaceuticals who had direct contact with Si Wen had various leverage points or weaknesses in his hands. Yet, he euphemistically called it caring for his subordinates, a benefit for Dongsheng Pharmaceuticals’ employees.

This was Si Wen; he didn’t trust human hearts.

He only trusted loyalty driven by self-interest.

In fact, not only did he manage people this way, but even when undertaking projects, he would break them down into several steps, assigning parts to people who were completely unrelated, and he would oversee all progress to make the final decision.

He was a born businessman, and it was fortunate that he was only a businessman.

The secretary thought presumptuously.

________________________________________

Candy Nightclub.

Zhou Yan finished showering and returned to the changing room.

Her hair hadn’t dried yet, cascading wetly down her back. Her red dress was like fire, thin straps hanging on her shoulders, no bra, two points vaguely visible.

The new manager came in to arrange the hostesses for the evening. He was immediately drawn to the red dress as he entered.

Before, when he came to Candy, it was as a customer. Back then, Candy had no shortage of hostesses in red, nor women as fair as Zhou Yan. But none wore it like her, able to make one’s mouth water.

Candy’s top hostesses were all stunning and skilled, perhaps just not very high in emotional or practical intelligence. Yet, he still enjoyed chatting with them. He knew it was because people were shallow and liked beauty.

But none of them, like Zhou Yan, gave him a sexual urge.

He spoke for ten minutes, saying just two short sentences, just to look at Zhou Yan for a little longer.

Her lips pouted slightly as she applied lipstick, as if she was shaping them. She extended her pinky finger and wiped them.

He swallowed twice, then pulled his eyes away: “Well, that’s it. I’m in charge of the six private rooms after 302 tonight. If you have any problems, find me. I’ve sent what clothes to wear in the group chat. Remember to buy cheap stockings, five yuan a pair is fine. If you buy good quality ones, they won’t tear, and if you meet a good-tempered boss, that’s fine, but if you meet a bad-tempered one, they’ll beat you black and blue.”

A newly fallen hostess, unafraid, asked: “Doesn’t our Candy always call the police for troublemakers?”

The manager said: “He hits you, what can calling the police recover? He pays you five thousand, ten thousand, but isn’t your face still ruined?”

She grumbled, pouted, and twirled her hair around her finger.

After speaking, the manager walked up to Zhou Yan: “Zhou Yan, you’ll still be waiting for the big private rooms tonight. If a boss comes, you’ll go in with Manager Gao’s group.”

Zhou Yan nodded, offering no further response.

The manager didn’t leave, adding: “Manager Gao’s big rooms are all lucrative. Be smart, and all the tips you earn are yours.”

Someone at the back grumbled: “Why? We get a cut taken from our tips. Why doesn’t she?”

The manager explained again: “My statement was just to encourage you to earn more tips. How could it all be yours? If you can’t do it, neither can Zhou Yan.”

The hostesses finally quieted down.

The manager turned to look at Zhou Yan again. Her indifferent attitude suddenly sparked annoyance in him. He was truly being given the cold shoulder despite his efforts.

But looking at her face again, his anger dissipated.

He pulled out a chair and sat down, watching her do her makeup, and said, “If you don’t want to work the floor, I can arrange something for you.”

Zhou Yan was halfway through her eyeliner. She turned to look at him: “How many days have you been here?”

The manager raised an eyebrow. No one had ever asked him that question, and her tone was too much like a leader speaking to a subordinate. He was dumbfounded for a moment before saying: “Four days.”

Zhou Yan’s face turned back to the mirror, and she continued applying her makeup.

The manager didn’t understand: “What’s wrong?”

Zhou Yan gently reminded him: “I suggest you keep your distance from me.”

The manager paused, wanting to ask why she was always so harsh to people. The door opened, and Sister Hong’s voice drifted in: “What are you doing?!”

He instinctively stood up, stepped back two paces, turned his head, his face full of fright: “What’s wrong?”

Sister Hong walked over, warning him: “If you don’t want to work, say so earlier! You spend all day lounging here, is your mom here or something?! Wipe your drool! Do you even dare to think about her? Get out!”

The manager was scolded into a daze. He paused, then ran out, stumbling away frantically.

Once he left, the hostesses also left discreetly.

Only Sister Hong and Zhou Yan remained in the changing room.

Sister Hong looked at Zhou Yan, who was perfectly calm, and internally scoffed, but said aloud, “If he bothers you again, tell me.”

Since publicly reprimanding Zhou Yan for insubordination last time, she hadn’t spoken to her. If Si Wen hadn’t called, she would have continued ignoring her.

Zhou Yan sprayed setting spray on her face, grunting a rough acknowledgment.

Sister Hong finished speaking and left.

Si Wen’s call came in.

Zhou Yan answered, put it on speaker, placed it aside, and proceeded to use the cufflink as a hair clip.

Si Wen’s voice came through: “Where’s my belt?”

Zhou Yan didn’t answer, only focused on clipping the cufflink.

Si Wen had clipped it on for her easily that day, so why was it so difficult for her?

“Can’t hear me?” Si Wen’s tone worsened.

Zhou Yan stopped trying to clip it, picked up her phone: “I don’t know. If you put a camera in your house, you wouldn’t have to worry about losing things. You’re pretty good at that kind of stuff.”

Si Wen stopped speaking.

“Is there anywhere else in Candy that hasn’t been bugged by you? Probably not, right?” Zhou Yan couldn’t think of anything else besides a bug that would allow Sister Hong to always stop other men from laying a hand on her so promptly.

Of course, it was impossible for her to bug her. Only that old bastard Si Wen liked to do such things.

Si Wen showed no guilt: “You’re looking for death.”

Zhou Yan hung up on him immediately, threw her phone on the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

That day, returning from the night market, Si Wen drove, his right hand continuously pulling the tie that bound her. As if he was afraid she would run away.

She knew then that Si Wen had once again lowered his bottom line for her.

The more privileges he extended to her, the more instinctively she would reveal her true emotions, her joys and sorrows, to him.