41: Chapter 41 Guiding by the Ghostly Shadow

The air inside the car was as cold as a morgue.

The Ghost did not directly answer the question about 'how much money'.

He reached out and turned off the car stereo playing light music, then turned sideways to retrieve a sealed kraft paper file folder from the glove compartment on the passenger side.

The mouth of the folder wasn't sealed shut, revealing a corner of white paper.

'Young Master, this is what the boss had me investigate.'

The Ghost's voice was flat, without a trace of inflection, like a machine reading from a script. 'Originally, the boss said if you didn't ask, this would be burned. But since you asked, take a look.'

Su Muyang stared at the file folder.

It was light. Thin.

But he felt it was a death sentence.

He reached out and took it, his fingertips brushing against the rough surface of the folder.

He pulled out the document. Under the dim yellow glow of the streetlights, the first page stabbed at his eyes.

It was a printout of a bank statement.

[Recipient: Qian Li. Sender: Wang Hao. Amount: 5200.00. Note: For a bag. Date: Two days ago.]

Su Muyang's hand clenched violently, the paper crackling in his grip.

Two days ago.

That was the day Qian Li cried to him, saying her phone was broken and she couldn't be reached. The day he was handing out flyers to save up money to fix her phone, while she was receiving a transfer from Wang Hao to buy a bag.

Five thousand two hundred.

So, the feelings he poured his heart and soul into for three years were only worth that number.

He continued to flip through the pages.

The second page was a Hilton Hotel check-in record.

The date was last Friday night.

Su Muyang remembered that day. Qian Li said she had menstrual cramps and needed to lie down in her dorm. He cooked brown sugar water and brought it downstairs, only to be stopped by the dorm auntie who wouldn't let him in. He stood downstairs for two hours. In the end, Qian Li sent him a message telling him to get lost, saying he was annoying.

So, that day she was at the Hilton Hotel.

The so-called menstrual cramps... were about having a good time in someone else's bed.

'Heh...'

A strange laugh was squeezed out from Su Muyang's throat.

He always thought he had lost to Wang Hao's family background, lost to that bmw, lost to reality.

Turns out, he lost to a single money transfer, to a hotel rendezvous.

So filthy.

Looking out the window at the girl who was now feeding barbecue to Wang Hao, Su Muyang suddenly felt his stomach churning violently.

He used to think Qian Li's smile was the purest thing in the world. Now, it seemed every frame of that smile had a price tag attached.

'Young Master.'

The Ghost's hand rested on the door handle. His other hand moved towards his waist, where something bulky was concealed. 'Just give the nod, and I'll go in right now and break that kid's hands. As for the girl, I can make sure she never shows her face in Jiangcheng again.'

This was the confidence Chen Fan gave him.

If Su Muyang wished, this barbecue restaurant would become a pile of rubble tonight.

Su Muyang closed his eyes, his chest heaving violently.

The urge to kill surged through his veins like magma. He wanted to rush in, tear Qian Li's hypocritical face apart, and grind Wang Hao's face against the charcoal grill.

But three seconds later, he opened his eyes.

The red veins were still there, but that flicker of madness had turned into shards of ice.

'No need.'

Su Muyang stuffed the documents back into the file folder as if handling a bag of trash.

'Causing a scene inside is something only a shrew would do. Getting my hands dirty for something with such a clear price tag isn't worth it.'

A woman who sold herself for five thousand yuan wasn't worthy of Su Muyang's anger.

She wasn't even worthy of another glance from him.

The Ghost raised an eyebrow and withdrew his hand from his waist.

He glanced at Su Muyang in the rearview mirror, a hint of approval now in his eyes.

To endure what ordinary people cannot—that was how a seed of the Chen family should be.

Su Muyang took out his phone.

The old phone with the cracked screen still had a wallpaper of him and Qian Li in a photo booth picture. In the photo, both were smiling foolishly, Qian Li with her arms around his neck. It was from their freshman year, right after they got together.

Back then, she didn't know Chanel, and he was just a poor student.

Su Muyang expressionlessly opened WeChat.

[Delete Contact]

[Confirm]

Then, the phonebook, the photo album, the nauseatingly sweet love diaries in the memos.

Delete.

Delete everything clean.

Each tap felt like carving out a piece of rotting flesh from his own heart. It hurt, but it was also a release.

The moment the last photo was deleted, Su Muyang felt something inside him die.

The Su Muyang who ate steamed buns for a month to buy his girlfriend a gift died tonight.

In his place was the Young Master of the Su family, holding a ten-billion black card, with a top-tier financial conglomerate standing behind him.

'Drive.'

Su Muyang tossed his phone aside, leaned back in the seat, his whole body sinking into the darkness.

'Where to?' the Ghost asked.

'To drink.'

Su Muyang loosened his collar, feeling the car's air conditioning wasn't cold enough to suppress the fire in his heart.

'Find the rowdiest, noisiest place. The kind of roadside stall only poor people go to.'

He didn't want to be any Young Master right now.

He just wanted to get drunk, and then find something to smash to pieces.

The Ghost didn't speak, just floored the accelerator.

The beat-up taxi let out a low roar, like a beast unleashed from its cage, instantly disappearing into the night.

Only the white bmw 5 series remained parked by the roadside, like a ridiculous joke.

...

Jiangcheng Old Town, Backstreet Food Stalls.

This was the rowdiest place in Jiangcheng, a mix of all walks of life. The ground was covered in grease and cigarette butts, the air thick with the smell of cheap beer and barbecue cumin.

Noisy. Chaotic. Full of malice.

Su Muyang sat at a folding table in the corner, a case of the cheapest 'Big Green Stick' beer in front of him.

No snacks to go with the drinks.

He had already downed three bottles.

Alcohol was a strange thing. It could numb you, but it could also make you lucid.

Su Muyang felt his brain was on fire, everything before his eyes becoming slightly blurry. Yet, he remembered every number on that statement with abnormal clarity.

5200.

So fucking cheap.

'Boss! Another case!'

Su Muyang slammed the empty bottle heavily on the table. The glass bottom collided with the metal tabletop with a loud 'bang.'

Several nearby tables of shirtless, tattooed hoodlums looked over with displeasure.

Su Muyang ignored them. Right now, he wished someone would pick a fight.

Just then, a burst of shrill cursing reached his ears.

'Fuck! Little girl, you don't know what's good for you, huh?'

At the next table, three hoodlums with dyed yellow hair were surrounding a girl selling beer.

The girl looked young, maybe eighteen or nineteen, wearing a faded school uniform under a huge beer vendor's apron, looking somewhat mismatched.

She kept her head down, clutching a few bottles of beer tightly to her chest, her body trembling violently.

'B-big brother, I just sell beer, I don't drink with customers...'

The girl's voice was thin, carrying a sob, pitiful to hear.

'Selling beer is just selling yourself! Don't play innocent!'

The lead yellow-haired hoodlum reached out to grab the girl's arm, his other hand even making an inappropriate move towards her waist. 'The brothers are having fun today. Asking you to drink with us is doing you a favor! Don't fucking disrespect us!'

'Ah! Don't touch me!'

The girl screamed, violently pushing the hoodlum's hand away, turning to run.

'Fuck! You dare push me?'

Enraged, the yellow-haired hoodlum grabbed a beer bottle from the table, stepped over, directly seized the girl's ponytail, and yanked it back hard.

The girl shrieked, lost her balance, and fell heavily to the ground.

The case of beer shattered with a crash, liquid and glass shards splattering everywhere.

'Bitch! You're not leaving until you lick every drop of this case clean for me!'

The yellow-haired hoodlum raised his foot, about to stomp on the girl's delicate, pretty face.

Most of the surrounding patrons watched coldly. In a place like this, such things were too common. No one wanted to get involved in the mess.

Except for Su Muyang.

He held the half-finished beer bottle in his hand, squinting as he looked at the girl on the ground.

The girl looked up, revealing a face covered in dust yet still stubborn.

That look in her eyes.

It was exactly like his own at nineteen, hauling bricks on a construction site for a few hundred yuan in tuition, bullied by the foreman but refusing to cry.

It was also like Qian Li before she was corrupted by money.

In that instant, the string that had been stretched taut in Su Muyang's mind all night finally snapped.

All the grievances, anger, and resentment found their outlet at this moment.

'Stop.'

Su Muyang stood up.

Because of the alcohol, his body swayed slightly, but the green beer bottle in his hand was gripped tightly.

The yellow-haired hoodlum was taken aback, turned his head, looked Su Muyang up and down in his cheap market-stall T-shirt, and sneered, 'Where'd this little punk come from? Trying to play the hero? Why don't you take a piss and look at yourself...'

Bang!

His answer was a loud explosion.

Without a single word of warning, Su Muyang swung his arm in a wide arc. The beer bottle in his hand whistled through the air and landed squarely on the hoodlum's forehead.

The bottle shattered.

Blood mixed with beer foam streamed down the hoodlum's face.

'You...'

The hoodlum's eyes rolled back. Without even time to scream, he fell straight backward.

Dead silence fell over the scene.

The remaining two hoodlums were stunned. The girl on the ground was stunned.

Su Muyang held the remaining half of the glass bottleneck, sharp shards protruding, pointing it at the two hoodlums. His eyes were as fierce as a demon freshly crawled out of hell.

'If you don't want to die, get lost.'

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