So, whether you have a ticket or not, please take a moment to click the button to vote for the monthly pass, because if you don't vote now, it will expire. Of course, Hong Chang has to give everyone a final reminder: just click here near the 'Perspective Eye'; don't accidentally give it to someone else, hehe.

In Dali City in early December, the temperature difference between morning and evening was significant, and the streets in the early morning carried a trace of chill.

But at this moment, Qi Fei's mood was like the climate of Inner Mongolia and Russia in the far north, swept by a piercingly cold, endless blizzard.

From the phone in her hand came a man's voice, tinged with a hint of pleasure: "I know you don't want to see me, but I miss you terribly. So, who do you think holds the initiative between us?"

Qi Fei trembled slightly with anger and asked coldly, "Cheng Moyan, what exactly do you want?"

"What do I want? We can discuss that slowly once we meet," the man chuckled, speaking slowly and deliberately. "I'll wait for you for ten minutes—plenty of time for you to get back to the inn. Don't be late, okay?"

Click. The call ended abruptly.

"This one, this one will cost a bit more. Eight hundred yuan, not a penny less. Look here, and here—these are inlaid with silver, completely different from those plated with copper."

The stall owner exerted himself to promote his wares. Most buyers of Myanmar knives were young men of this age; they liked knives, had money, and weren't very good at haggling. Making just this one sale today would be enough profit.

Wang Zhuo had just picked up another knife and was about to ask the price when his shoulder was lightly poked. He turned his head and saw that it was Qi Fei returning after taking the call.

"My stomach isn't feeling well; I'm going back first. You look around a bit more on your own."

Seeing Qi Fei's slightly troubled expression, Wang Zhuo was about to stand up but was pressed back down by her hand: "It's fine, just need to take a pill when I get back. I'll come back to find you later."

"Alright then. There’s a first-aid kit in the car; there’s half a box of Norfloxacin if you need it."

Qi Fei hurried away. Watching her retreating figure, Wang Zhuo thought that everything they ate yesterday was hygienic; why the sudden stomachache? Could it be that time of the month? But her expression didn't quite suggest that; she seemed preoccupied with something?

With that question in mind, he turned back to the stall and pointed: "This one, and this one, I'll take them."

Two knives, one long and one short. The long one was a small saber, the most expensive on the entire stall. Including the blade and handle, it was about sixty-five centimeters long. The handle was made of sheep horn with natural grain, suitable for gripping with one or two hands.

Of course, this knife was unsharpened; otherwise, the Market Management Office would have shut down the stall immediately.

The other knife was only palm-sized. Its handle and sheath were made from a thick, short piece of buffalo horn. When drawn, the blade was only seven centimeters long, sharp enough to cut sheepskin like paper—a rare, fine knife, yet it cost only two hundred yuan.

The stall owner had expected this young man to ask for a deal, perhaps one free with the purchase, but instead, the customer directly laid out twelve hundred yuan, took the knives, and walked away.

"If I had known, I should have asked for a higher price," the stall owner shook his head, somewhat vexed, and went back to soliciting customers.

Ten minutes later, a heavy-hearted Qi Fei returned to the inn, and once again remotely controlled by Cheng Moyan's phone, she was directed to the teahouse across the street from the inn, where she found the hated nemesis seated at a tea table in a corner on the second floor.

Cheng Moyan was only thirty-six, but streaks of white already appeared in his hair. At one meter seventy-five, he was slightly taller than average for a man from the Jiangnan region. He was lean, wearing a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, giving him the air of a scholar.

"Little Qi, you're even more beautiful than before. I suppose it’s the nourishment of love?" Cheng Moyan smiled, looking Qi Fei up and down with a rather undisguised gaze.

"Cheng Moyan, I came to see you not to listen to your nonsense," Qi Fei stood before the table expressionlessly, her voice carrying a chill.

"Then I'll speak less nonsense," Cheng Moyan chuckled softly, tilting his chin. "Why aren't you sitting? Do you want all the customers on the second floor to notice us?"

Qi Fei reluctantly sat down out of pique. Cheng Moyan reveled in this feeling of holding the initiative, speaking from a superior position, and he laughed heartily.

He picked up his teacup, took a sip, and asked slowly, "I heard you’ve done well these last few years, even opening your own company in Jiangzhou?"

Qi Fei kept her face cold and silent. Cheng Moyan didn't mind, continuing his own narrative: "But I haven't fared so well these past few years. Look at me, now I have to come to this desolate place like Dali, setting up a stall by the roadside, telling fortunes for passersby to earn a few tips to get by."

Qi Fei sneered, "That’s what you brought upon yourself."

"I brought it upon myself?" Cheng Moyan's old wound was touched, and he countered somewhat aggressively, "If it weren't for that incident, I would at least have the standing of a deputy section chief by now. I did nothing wrong; I just had bad luck."

Qi Fei watched him coldly. This man seemed to have performed every trope of the faithless lover from a soap opera. She vaguely guessed the next scene.

Cheng Moyan began to vent his grievances, detailing his misfortunes—nothing more than how, after dumping Qi Fei and becoming a modern-day Chen Shimei, his fiancée’s father was detained right after their engagement banquet, followed by his fiancée leaving the country, and the university sidelining him, and all the subsequent troubles.

In this account, he only detailed the injustices done to him, never mentioning the harm he inflicted upon Qi Fei, and even harboring lingering resentment, blaming Qi Fei for him losing his university lecturer position instead of taking responsibility himself.

Listening, Qi Fei finally couldn't bear it. She interrupted his complaining and said with a cold laugh, "Cheng Moyan, your disciplinary action and expulsion from the university—why do you count those two things against me? You did wrong, so why blame me?"

Cheng Moyan let out a cold laugh too, pointing at Qi Fei. "Don't think I don't know. If you hadn't reported me, how would the school have known what I did? Why would they punish me? Who else could have done this besides you? There's no need for evidence."

Qi Fei opened and closed her mouth twice in anger but couldn't utter a word. Cheng Moyan continued with a cold sneer, "Speechless, are you? Then I won't waste any more time on pleasantries. Let's discuss the real business."

Qi Fei took a deep breath, forcing down her rage, and stared at him, asking, "What business?"

Cheng Moyan scoffed dismissively. "Put your phone on the table. Turn off the recording. Don't try any tricks with me."

Dong. The phone was thrown onto the table. Qi Fei extended a finger and deactivated the recording, glaring at Cheng Moyan.

"It’s good that you cooperate," Cheng Moyan nodded in satisfaction before saying, "You’re successful now, yet I'm hiding in this poor backwater earning money. So, I think it’s a bit unfair. I want to borrow some money from you to start a business."

Qi Fei curled her lip in an 'I knew it' expression. "How much do you want to borrow?"

"I originally thought ten thousand would suffice, but after seeing the car your little boyfriend drives, I’ve changed my mind." Cheng Moyan tapped the tabletop lightly with his fingertip, saying smugly, "So, I think I should invest bigger. Let’s make it twenty thousand."

Qi Fei snatched up her teacup and flung it toward his detestable face. Unexpectedly, Cheng Moyan was prepared. He pulled a wooden board standing beside the table, placing it between them as a shield.

It turned out to be a small blackboard used for fortune-telling advertisements, featuring a diagram of facial pressure points drawn in colored chalk, along with some promotional text. When Cheng Moyan blocked with it, the tea Qi Fei threw splashed back, and although not much, it left ugly colored water spots on her pristine white athletic jacket.

"You’re still as impulsive as you were back then," Cheng Moyan lowered the blackboard, pointing to his own right cheek, and smiled faintly. "Those two false teeth I have? They are thanks to you."

"What if I refuse to lend it?" Qi Fei gripped the cup tightly, looking coldly at this beast in human skin.

"It doesn't matter if you don't lend it," Cheng Moyan shrugged indifferently. "I recently found an unlicensed internet café—no surveillance cameras, and no ID required to log in. Guess what would happen if I went there to upload some things and post them on Tianya?"

Ding.

A crisp sound echoed throughout the second floor. Qi Fei had smashed the teacup in her hand onto the teapot, shattering it into pieces. She snatched up the largest shard, stood up, and lunged toward Cheng Moyan.

Cheng Moyan scrambled backward in alarm. He had experienced Qi Fei’s explosive fury before; the two false teeth in his mouth were a lifelong testament. Now, he had no doubt: if he didn't run, this woman genuinely might take his life.

A former university lecturer, utterly defenseless, stood little chance against a woman fighting for her life. Cheng Moyan already felt regret. He had assumed that after so many years in society, her sharp edges would have been smoothed down, but unexpectedly, she was still as fiercely passionate as she had been back then.

Just as the blood-dripping porcelain shard was about to slash toward Cheng Moyan's throat, a pair of strong, powerful arms suddenly appeared, enveloping Qi Fei, who was blinded by hatred, in a chest-to-chest hold. She didn't hesitate for a second and stabbed the porcelain shard toward the arm obstructing her, but her wrist was seized, and further progress became impossible.

As the struggling Qi Fei tried to fight back, a familiar voice called her back to reality. "Sister, it's me."

Her fingers were pried apart, and the porcelain shard clattered to the floor. Blood rapidly streamed from the cut in her palm, drop by drop, staining the floorboards.

Rrrrip. Wang Zhuo tore off one sleeve of his shirt, twisted it twice, and swiftly wrapped it around her hand, temporarily stopping the bleeding.

"Calm down. Leave the rest to me."

Although Qi Fei's injury might not be minor, Wang Zhuo showed no intention of leaving. Instead, he dragged over a chair and forced Qi Fei to sit on it.

Cheng Moyan stood frozen in the corner, his expression shifting between dark and uncertain. The situation had escalated beyond his predictions. Wang Zhuo's sudden appearance was entirely unforeseen. He had been watching the direction of the inn through the window, never seeing Wang Zhuo return, nor knowing how Wang Zhuo even found him.

"Teacher Cheng, is that right?" Wang Zhuo looked at him with a smile that didn't reach his eyes, speaking lightly. "I have one question for you now: do you want to live, or do you want those twenty thousand?"

Both Qi Fei and Cheng Moyan felt a simultaneous jolt in their hearts. Only then did they realize Wang Zhuo had been sitting at the tea table behind the screen adjacent to them all along; otherwise, how could he know Cheng Moyan's title and the fact that he was extorting twenty thousand yuan?

Cheng Moyan desperately wanted to sound tough and say he wanted both, but when he saw Wang Zhuo pull out a horn dagger and, with a sharp swoosh, slice a cork teapot coaster clean in half, he instantly lost his nerve.

"I... I don't want either of them..."

Hearing these words, Qi Fei suddenly felt an intense sense of relief. The demon that had been buried in her heart for so many years was now stammering incoherently from fear, willing to give up even his life.

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