HGG - 25

Today, Zhan Luo was discharged from the hospital and returned to work. It was said that he fired two slow-moving subordinates as soon as he walked in—his skills were still sharp, unstoppable. Chi Zhao thought inwardly, no wonder his father trusted him so much.

He figured it wouldn’t be long before he couldn’t afford to slack off either.

After a busy day, Chi Zhao finally had some time to rest. After pondering for a moment, he decided to dig out his game console and play for a while.

However, as he stepped over the Monopoly board scattered on the floor and rummaged through the rows of HELLO KITTY plush toys, he searched for a long time but couldn’t find the console.

In the end, Chi Zhao could only pick up his phone and dial Song Yi’s number.

The secretary had already left work, but her job required her to be on call 24/7.

The phone rang several times before it was answered. As soon as he heard the familiar “Hello,” Chi Zhao immediately spoke: “Song Yi, I need you—” to tell me where the Nintendo game console is.

There was silence on the other end.

Chi Zhao held the phone and glanced at the screen, a cold glint flashing quickly in his eyes.

“Chi Zhao,” it was Song Yi’s voice. She said, “I need you too.”

So quiet. Chi Zhao thought. Without asking what had happened, he turned and leaned against the edge of the desk: “I’m looking for the game console. Where are you?”

Song Yi didn’t answer his question but continued: “I need you to approve my leave. For the next few days… I’m going to visit my grandmother in the countryside.”

“The countryside?” Chi Zhao lowered his eyes to glance at the time. “It’s been busy lately. It’s inconvenient to take leave. How about this—I’ll pay you an extra thousand per hour if you come back and work overtime?”

On the other end of the line, Song Yi hesitated for a moment. She said: “Sorry, it seems that won’t work. Um…” She wanted to say something but suddenly stopped.

“You can take leave, but there’s something I want to ask you.” Chi Zhao said, “Where did you put the coffee beans I brought back from Argentina last time?”

Song Yi paused for a moment, then clearly replied: “In the drawer with the chess set—”

At that point, the call was abruptly cut off.

Chi Zhao moved the phone away from his ear, retrieved the recording, and sent it to Xia Fan’s computer. Then he walked to the partition door and knocked on the window: “Overtime pay has been issued.”

Xia Fan took off his headphones.

“Contact Song Yi’s family and the employee dormitory to check if she’s home yet. There’s one of our stores along the route she takes after work—pull the surveillance footage.” Chi Zhao gave the instructions, his tone still leisurely, but his enunciation was forceful. “Immediately, now.”

Xia Fan received the audio clip: “What’s wrong?”

“It’s too quiet,” Chi Zhao said.

“?”

“At this hour, she should still be on the road,” Chi Zhao said as he walked out and opened a social media app to respond: “It’s too quiet on her end.”

His probing question had elicited a response. There was no way there could be coffee in Chi Zhao’s office. He sat down at his desk, an indescribable sense of anxiety steadily rising from his chest.

Out of the corner of his eye, he suddenly noticed the drawer.

He pulled it open to find the Nintendo game console lying on top of the chess set.

Meanwhile.

The van kept moving. After forcibly taking the phone from her and hanging up, Song Yi shouted: “Stop! That hurts!”

The fruit knife pressed against her abdomen. Whenever she tried to say more, it brutally silenced her.

Her hands and feet were tied, but at least her mouth wasn’t gagged. However, shouting wouldn’t help since they were on the road, and it would only result in more violence.

These people weren’t professionals—they were actually taking her to collect money. After getting the money, they even stayed behind to talk. The young man guarding Song Yi was playing on his phone. Taking the opportunity, Song Yi discreetly surveyed her surroundings and spotted a screwdriver in the groove of the car door.

Moving positions would definitely draw attention. All Song Yi could do was try speaking: “Hello.”

The young man, fully engrossed in his mobile game, was startled when he suddenly heard a voice beside him. He turned his head and saw Song Yi smiling politely at him.

“Need to use the restroom?” he snapped irritably, “Hold it in!”

All along, Song Yi had only known how to interact with others politely. She racked her brain, desperately thinking of ways to express friendliness.

Finally, she spoke in the tone of an online shopping customer service representative: “Dear, I see you’re stuck in your game. The monsters’ movement patterns follow a rule—you can look it up online to pass the level faster.”

Clearly, this attempt at bonding didn’t work.

The young man kicked the chair: “Mind your own business!”

As he kicked, Song Yi used the momentum to bump into the other side of the car door. Pretending to fall, she swiftly grabbed the screwdriver and then shifted her gaze, saying: “…I was just telling you.”

Once seated again, she secretly gripped the screwdriver and began trying to loosen the ropes.

This wasn’t a small task. Halfway through, she realized it was gradually getting dark outside. The others got back into the car, and the gambling boss once again sat in the front passenger seat.

He turned around and grinned at Song Yi: “Waited long? Let’s go.”

While fiddling behind her back, Song Yi struck up a conversation to avoid drawing suspicion: “Whose house is that?”

They assumed she had finally given up and exchanged knowing chuckles: “Don’t worry. You’ve got all your limbs, no illnesses or disabilities—just not the brightest bulb.”

It was utterly disgusting.

What if she couldn’t escape? Thinking about this possibility, Song Yi suddenly felt a chill run through her body.

A question gnawed at her mind, and finally, she managed to ask with difficulty: “Was it my mom who sold me? Was it her idea alone? My dad—”

More snickers followed. The man said: “Hah, you’re such a stubborn one. Your mom sold you, and your dad helped count the money. Isn’t that obvious?!”

The twilight enveloped the entire sky. The van drove along a desolate road where even properly functioning streetlights were few and far between.

Song Yi fell into a daze as she processed his words.

She suddenly recalled a distant memory—when Song Zuowei came to pick her up after a parent-teacher meeting. The concern and sorrow on his face flowed like a river through her childhood memories.

All of that had vanished without a trace.

Song Yi suddenly understood—it was hopeless. The part of her that still believed in Song Zuowei had no hope left.

Her frozen heart slowly ceased to beat.

The hand gripping the screwdriver gradually loosened.

The van continued forward, its headlights illuminating the eerie, dim road ahead.

The young man who had been guarding Song Yi suddenly looked up: “Did you hear something?”

The driver raised his head to look around. At that moment, he exclaimed in surprise: “What is that?!”

In the darkness, a gray object was hovering above the car.

While they were focused on figuring out what it was, a shadow suddenly appeared in the headlights’ glow. The screech of brakes rang out as the unidentified flying object on the roof abruptly fell and crashed down heavily.

It was a remote-controlled model airplane.

The windshield shattered under the impact of the heavy object. The old van didn’t have airbags, and everyone inside was utterly shocked—especially the gambling boss in the front passenger seat, whose face turned deathly pale.

Parked in the dim night ahead was a bright yellow sports car. Just by looking at its model, one could tell it was worth a fortune. Chi Zhao leaned casually against the side of the car, holding a remote control in his hand.

He lazily raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the terrified men in the van.

At this moment, he suddenly smiled.

Chi Zhao’s smile was very charming, exuding an aura of kindness and innocence. However, at this particular moment, it sent chills down their spines.

Without warning, he threw the remote control toward the hood of the car. The expensive gadget struck the glass in front of the passenger seat, causing the man inside to flinch violently.

Then, the man made a fatal mistake. Panicking, he opened the car door and tried to flee. In an instant, Chi Zhao rushed to the side of the vehicle, his face bearing a terrifying, menacing grin.

He threw a punch.

The man, who usually relied on hired thugs and wasn’t used to physical labor, was completely disoriented from the blow. Forgetting his position, he stammered: “If you hit me again, I’ll call the police!”

“Call the police?” Chi Zhao laughed. He wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his smile crisp and refreshing. He turned his attention to the young men in the backseat. “How could I possibly let you call the police now? Would you make me pay to beat you up in a detention center?”

The henchmen in the car finally snapped back to their senses, cursing as they tried to get out. Meanwhile, Song Yi had just managed to free herself from the ropes. Gripping the screwdriver, she stabbed it into the abdomen of the person beside her and then dashed out of the car.

At that moment, Xia Fan was finishing his last sentence on the phone: “Thank you for your help, Officer.”

In the end, Chi Zhao didn’t get the chance to vent his anger fully.

The police swarmed in and apprehended the suspects, who were charged with multiple crimes. Xia Fan was awarded a commendation banner for being a “Brave and Righteous Good Citizen, Resolute in Hating Evil.”

By the time everything was settled, it was already late at night. Song Yi was so exhausted while receiving intravenous fluids at the hospital that the medication likely had a sedative effect. She only vaguely remembered Chi Zhao leaning over her in the hospital corridor and asking gently: “Are you okay? Is anything hurting?”

His tone felt incredibly gentle—gentler than her father’s. She didn’t cry but simply lowered her head and said, “Nothing hurts.”

Chi Zhao escorted her home. Too fatigued to protest, Song Yi struggled to see him out, but he gently pushed her back down. “It’s fine. You go to sleep.”

Song Yi truly breathed a sigh of relief.

In her dreams that night, she was twelve years old again, returning home from school. Song Zuowei was reading the newspaper, and Li Mei, wearing an apron, was cooking dinner. She put down her schoolbag, and her mother said, “Go wash your hands. Dinner’s almost ready.” Her father praised her, saying, “You did so well on your test again. Let’s go to an art exhibition this weekend.”

The dream was so beautiful that she woke up smiling, realizing it was already morning.

When she saw Chi Zhao, Song Yi thought perhaps she had woken up incorrectly.

Chi Zhao sat by the bed, flipping through a photo album.

“Mr. Chi?!” Song Yi quickly sat up and got out of bed, bowing apologetically. “I’m so sorry for being rude. What are you doing here?”

Chi Zhao looked up, clearly having not slept all night. He braced himself on his knees and stood up. “Can I take a shower?”

“O-of course,” Song Yi realized he hadn’t answered but didn’t dare ask further. She led him to the shower room.

She took a deep breath and began reflecting after Chi Zhao closed the door.

Song Yi adjusted her clothes and hair in the mirror, tidied up the room, and then started pondering Chi Zhao’s expression earlier.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

Through the peephole, Song Yi saw a group of unfamiliar faces.

After another glance, she finally recognized someone.

It was the class monitor.

The same class monitor who had always acted like a big brother during university.

He carried an air of urgency.

Even after introducing themselves, she still didn’t understand their purpose.

Why would the class monitor, his mother, and his two sisters come to visit Song Yi?

In any case, she invited them to sit down and served tea. But as soon as they settled in, they launched into a barrage of accusations.

“Young lady, I don’t know who you are or what you’re thinking, but,” the eldest sister of the class monitor took the lead, “it’s unfair of you to make our Dacheng spend money on you!”

“What?” Song Yi didn’t understand what she meant.

Next, the mother chimed in: “Whether your mother is in detention for gambling debts or anything else, if you need money, go get it yourself!”

This time, Song Yi directly turned to the class monitor: “Mr. Jiang Dacheng, can you explain this to me?”

The class monitor hesitated, his usual air of righteousness and generosity gone. “Song Yi, um… my dad works in the police force. I just heard about your situation and thought I’d come help you…”

“How can you pretend not to know?” the other sister interjected. “Let me tell you! Early this morning, he went to pay off your relatives’ debt with cash!”

“You stupid boy! What were you thinking?! How could you fall for this vixen’s tricks!” the mother lamented bitterly. “She’s just a woman living off men! Haven’t you heard what your classmates say?! She’s kept by someone!”

The class monitor spoke up: “I was just trying to help her. Back in college, we actually got along pretty well. She liked me too. Being kept isn’t something she wanted…”

So that was it.

Sometimes, rumors stemmed merely from jealousy.

Song Yi roughly understood. There were people at the class reunion who still held grudges against her.

Images of many faces flashed through her mind—Li Mei, Song Zuowei, Liu Jun, Liu Jun’s girlfriend, the class monitor named Jiang Dacheng, and the rough women standing before her.

Hateful people only grew more hateful.

Amidst the cacophony of strangers blaming each other, Song Yi calmly raised her head.

“Please respect me,” she said firmly, enunciating each word.

Song Yi fixed them with an icy stare. “First, I have no connection to any of you. My affairs are none of your business, and I won’t tolerate being insulted.”

The temperature seemed to drop to freezing.

“Second,” she continued, “I am not being kept. That is indeed my boyfriend.”

The doorknob of the shower room turned, and footsteps echoed in the corridor.