A sliver of morning light pierced the rosy clouds at the edge of the sky, illuminating the second floor of the teahouse in a brilliant gold.

Seeing Cheng Moyan concede so readily, the killing intent in Wang Zhuo’s eyes receded slightly. “Smart of you to know when to quit.”

“The things. Hand them over.”

Looking at Wang Zhuo’s outstretched hand, Cheng Moyan managed a bitter smile and said, “I... I was just talking nonsense earlier. There are no things, not anymore. They were disposed of long ago.”

Wang Zhuo scoffed and waved a dismissive hand. “Lying, are you? You don’t want your tongue anymore?”

Cheng Moyan’s face instantly crumpled into distress. “I’m really not deceiving you! The school destroyed the things seven years ago! I have witnesses!”

“Don't trust him,” Qi Fei said coldly. “This trash is the best liar there is; not a word he says can be relied upon.”

Wang Zhuo swiftly drew his blade. Seeing the ravenous look in his eyes, Cheng Moyan immediately recoiled, shouting, “What are you doing? China is a society governed by law! Assaulting someone means prosecution! Don't make a mistake!”

“Make a mistake?” Wang Zhuo sneered, tossing the dagger up and down in circles. “Tell that to the petty thieves who grew up drinking soy milk and eating raisins. See if they listen to your warning, or if they’ll just slash you instead.”

Qi Fei rebuked, “Cheng Moyan, and you still have the nerve to talk about the rule of law? Do you think extortion isn't illegal?”

Cheng Moyan frantically waved his hands. “That was just borrowing money, not extortion...”

“I don’t have time to listen to your nonsense.” Wang Zhuo slammed his knife into the table; the tip pierced the wood and protruded beneath. “Do you want a few cuts, or are you going to hand over the goods? Speak clearly.”

Cheng Moyan hesitated, about to argue, but Wang Zhuo impatiently yanked the dagger free again. Seeing the cold glint of the blade, Wang Zhuo’s bared, strong forearm—revealed after he tore up his sleeve—covered in old scars, Cheng Moyan wisely raised both hands beside his ears and shook them, mimicking the gesture of a Japanese surrender. “Don’t be rash, I’ll give them to you, I’ll give you the things!”

“I was the high school champion in the hundred-meter and ten-kilometer runs. You’d better not try any tricks.”

After the warning, Wang Zhuo stepped forward and frisked Cheng Moyan, taking his phone, walkman, wallet, and keys, stuffing everything into the souvenir bag he had brought. Grabbing him by the neck like a sack of chickens, he steered him downstairs.

It turned out this teahouse had double doors, spanning two streets, with an entrance on each side. Cheng Moyan had only paid attention to one side because he assumed Wang Zhuo would return to the inn where he was staying. He hadn’t realized Wang Zhuo had entered through the door on the other street, come upstairs, and sat at a table separated only by a screen.

Having damaged the teahouse’s cups, teapot, and table, Wang Zhuo casually tossed a handful of cash onto the downstairs counter. That such a commotion went completely unattended made him despise the establishment; this action was already showing restraint.

After making some inquiries, the trio arrived at the nearest community hospital. Qi Fei’s right hand had two lacerations, one deep and one shallow. Fortunately, no tendons were severed. Wang Zhuo handed over a large sum for the consultation fee, and the elderly doctor diligently stitched the wound over ten times.

Anyone familiar with wound treatment knows that injuries near joints require more stitches than those in ordinary locations, and the count increases further when considering future aesthetics and flexibility.

Qi Fei’s wounds were about two centimeters long; under normal circumstances, three stitches would have sufficed. Wang Zhuo’s golden barrage had made her suffer an extra ten stitches, but the benefit would become apparent upon healing: there would likely be only one faint, unremarkable scar.

More than an hour had passed after treating the wounds. During this time, Cheng Moyan had been sighing constantly. Every time he tried to explain himself, he was met with a sharp glare from Wang Zhuo, and any slight opening for more talk earned him a kick. He had zero human rights.

The doctors and nurses at the community hospital paid them no mind; they assumed Cheng Moyan had attacked Qi Fei and was getting what he deserved.

The Land Rover drove into an unmanned alley, and with its four doors locked, it became Cheng Moyan’s temporary cage.

Wang Zhuo and Qi Fei walked some distance away from the car, and only then did Qi Fei begin recounting the history of their new and old grievances with Cheng Moyan.

It was a long time ago. Qi Fei was a sophomore in college, and Cheng Moyan was a lecturer retained by the university. They first met in the large lecture hall for general education courses.

“That bastard taught Political Ethics?” Wang Zhuo was speechless.

At the time, Qi Fei was the department beauty, and Cheng Moyan was the campus heartthrob. Egged on by well-meaning female students, they started dating. The material Cheng Moyan was threatening to upload to the internet was the photos and video clips taken during that period.

Hearing this, Wang Zhuo couldn't help but generate some unsavory thoughts: What kind of photos? Nude ones? Cecilia Cheung’s style? Or like Shou Shou?

“Stop having those weird thoughts. If he hands it over, I can show you.”

That sentence instantly relieved Wang Zhuo considerably. Otherwise, he truly wouldn't have known how to face Qi Fei, as such matters were incredibly awkward.

Qi Fei continued her story. Later, a new teacher arrived at the school. This woman took a liking to Cheng Moyan and pursued him aggressively. Upon hearing the woman’s father was a high-ranking official in the Education Commission, Cheng Moyan quickly transferred his affections elsewhere.

“Later I found out he liked me because my family was quite wealthy, but when faced with money and power, he chose the path to officialdom through that woman.”

Qi Fei was summarily dumped. A year later, Cheng Moyan got engaged, but his future father-in-law was immediately investigated and detained. Cheng Moyan was subsequently marginalized by the school, his prospects bleak.

At that time, Qi Fei, like any ordinary girl emerging from the shadow of a breakup, had grown close to another male student and was on the verge of starting a relationship when Cheng Moyan suddenly inserted himself, demanding a reconciliation with Qi Fei.

After being sternly rejected, Cheng Moyan flew into a rage, spewing wild threats. Consequently, the boy who was about to date Qi Fei beat him soundly. In his fury, fueled by alcohol, he rushed to the boy’s class QQ group and posted several pictures, causing an uproar throughout the school.

Later, Cheng Moyan faced party disciplinary action and was expelled from the university. Qi Fei was also advised to withdraw. The nascent relationship she had just begun with that boy naturally ended.

After that, Cheng Moyan vanished. Qi Fei fell into a slump for two years following the trauma, gradually regaining her optimism and confidence. She succeeded through self-study and carved out a niche for herself in the field of jewelry design.

“The school told me they had deleted all my material from Cheng Moyan’s computer,” Qi Fei said with a troubled expression, sighing. “Later, once I understood some computer knowledge, I realized clearing the Recycle Bin isn't reliable—even formatting isn't enough. You need a low-level format.”

“China is so vast, how could he be the one specific person I’d run into out of over a billion?” Wang Zhuo felt some frustration after listening. Was this what they called destined adversaries?

“No, I think this was premeditated,” Qi Fei said with a cold smile. “He’s been lurking in the shadows all these years while I’ve been in the open. He knew I was in the jade industry and that I liked to travel, so he was certain I would come to this city. He got here first and waited, setting a trap.”

Wang Zhuo was half-convinced. “Then why didn’t he just come to my door?”

Qi Fei stated with certainty, “He has the home-field advantage here. If he came to my place, he knew I would report him immediately.”

Home-field advantage? Wang Zhuo laughed dismissively. We’ll see whether the home-field advantage is stronger, or if my Fiery Eyes are sharper.

Following Cheng Moyan’s directions, the car pulled into a quiet residential area. The three got out and walked to Cheng Moyan’s third-floor apartment within the complex.

The unit was about sixty square meters. The rooms were somewhat messy, clearly the dwelling of a typical bachelor: unwashed clothes and socks carelessly tossed everywhere.

“It’s all on the computer. There’s a hidden folder named 8125 on the D drive. Sort the compressed files inside by size; the sixth largest one is it.”

Cheng Moyan pointed toward the open bedroom door, from which the faint sound of a computer fan could be heard in the living room.

Qi Fei headed straight for the computer. Just as Cheng Moyan attempted to sit on the sofa, Wang Zhuo kicked him from behind, sending him sprawling. Before he could rise, his hair was grabbed firmly, and his belt was snatched, lifting him bodily into the air. He was tossed out as if soaring through the clouds.

With a loud thud, Qi Fei rushed to look back and saw Cheng Moyan tumbling against a wall in the living room, sliding down like a piece of wall art, slowly curling into a ball, twitching fitfully.

She coldly withdrew her gaze from Cheng Moyan and forced a strained smile at Wang Zhuo. “Go ahead and beat him. If he dies, it’s on me.”

“If I hit him harder, he actually will die,” Wang Zhuo grinned at her. “You go find the things. I’ll keep him company for a while.”

Saying this, he drew his own belt, snapped it lightly, and walked toward Cheng Moyan.

Cheng Moyan desperately wanted to scream for help, but he didn’t even have the strength to make a sound. He deeply regretted his actions today, having never expected this seemingly mild-mannered young man to be a killing god, more professional than any hired thug.

The genuine leather belt lightly slapped Cheng Moyan’s face with a pa-ta pa-ta sound. Cheng Moyan had no doubt that if Qi Fei couldn’t find what she was looking for, this belt would suddenly gain force and start by knocking out a few of his teeth.

Moments later, Qi Fei’s voice came from the room. “Wang Zhuo, ask him for the password.”

Before Wang Zhuo could speak, Cheng Moyan blurted out, “The password is the three repetitions of—”

A flurry of frantic typing sounds followed, and then the room fell quiet.

Wang Zhuo’s gaze passed through the wall to the computer screen. A list of files inside a compressed package had just opened. They were all video or JPG files, with creation dates from eight years ago—it seemed this was correct.

He withdrew his gaze, looking at Cheng Moyan with a half-smile, and asked casually, “Is there a backup? Are you going to hand it over yourself, or should I search for it?”

“A backup?” Cheng Moyan’s eyes flickered. He shook his head with a wry smile. “There isn’t another copy. The one I gave her is the only one.”

..A

For more novels, visit storyread.net.