Chapter 4: Draining the Ill-Gotten Wealth of the Worthless Father

After dinner, exhausted from the day’s turmoil, Liu Huiru quickly drifted into sleep. Qian Lai, her mind stirring, slipped into her private realm, removed the bandages from her head, changed into black clothes, and, under the cover of night, darted through the factory’s back door into an abandoned chemical workshop.

Years ago, this place had witnessed a furnace explosion so devastating it shook the entire nation, leaving countless casualties in its wake. Since then, it had been left derelict, untouched by anyone.

Even in the early summer night, a chill wind swept through the vast, gloomy workshop. The enormous window frames stood empty, glass long gone. The wind howled through them, at times sounding like the mournful cries of wronged souls.

Qian Lai tugged at her collar, feeling a shiver course through her body.

That Qian Jiangang! To think he could come up with such an idea—hiding ill-gotten gains in a place like this.

By day, the factory was strictly guarded, no entry allowed. But at night… even for money, no one would dare come here.

The beam from her flashlight, swallowed by the darkness, seemed no brighter than a firefly.

She followed the perimeter of the workshop, searching for the number two boiler where Qian Jiangang had hidden the money. Her path was constantly blocked by scrap metal and debris left from the explosion. She hopped and dodged, scanning both her feet and her surroundings for her target.

Hiss. The inevitable happened—a long nail sliced across her ankle, drawing a line of blood and nearly sending her to her knees with pain.

Her flashlight fell, and as its beam swept across the floor, she glimpsed a patch of ground that had clearly been tidied up. There were rumpled bedding scattered about, and remnants of unfinished meals.

What? Someone was living here? More than one, it seemed!

Her nerves tightened.

Scrambling up, ignoring the pain in her foot, she pressed on to find her objective and leave this dreadful place.

Just as she was tensed, she turned, circumvented the makeshift “habitat,” and caught a glimpse of a large “2” painted by the moonlight streaming in.

The original spiral stairs had rotted away; she tumbled and crawled into the boiler’s interior.

Inside, it was darker than Qian Jiangang’s heart. Charred earth clung to the walls, and even her flashlight only managed to cast faint, fragmented shadows.

She tapped the boiler’s walls; only black ash rained down.

She searched the boiler floor carefully.

The sound was off!

Laboriously prying open a false layer beneath the boiler, she found a red cloth bundle wrapped tightly in plastic, wedged perfectly among the pipes.

Picking it up, she discovered a metal box underneath.

Opening it, she gasped. Inside was a box of “Great Unity” banknotes, sealed with waterproofing material.

Without pause, she swept her “spoils” into her space. She needed to leave this terrifying place at once.

Just as she emerged from the boiler’s breach, she heard furtive rustling—someone was entering.

Bad!

She quickly retreated into her space to observe.

After a while, the sounds faded as if they’d never existed, and the vast workshop was silent once more.

Perhaps she was just too nervous, frightening herself.

She stepped calmly onto the broken stairs, descending. Just two steps down, suddenly, someone lifted her from behind, strong arms encircling her slender waist, a large hand covering her face.

Qian Lai, startled, tried to struggle, but the grip was firm, binding her tightly. By her ear, a deep, magnetic male voice whispered, “Don’t make a sound.”

Instinctively, she tensed, her heart pounding wildly. Her back and waist were pressed against his solid, broad chest. The silence around them was so profound they could hear each other’s heartbeats.

He crouched with her, using the angle between the number two boiler and the rear wall as cover, allowing them to observe everything ahead.

The space was cramped. The man’s breath brushed her neck, and she blushed, grateful for the darkness.

She glanced back at him, their eyes meeting. He quickly withdrew his hand, raising a finger to his lips—“shh.”

She nodded slightly.

By the moonlight, Qiao Muting saw her face clearly. Her bright eyes flashed, her expression solemn as though she were about to join a political party. Her lips were pressed tight, a streak of soot smeared across her pale face and nose, making her resemble a rescued white rabbit.

Something stirred in his heart.

The “little white rabbit” twisted her waist, and instinctively, he steadied her.

At that moment, it hit him—he was stunned!

He suffered from a rare allergy to contact with the opposite sex, yet just now, when he covered her mouth and pulled her into his arms, he felt nothing amiss. On the contrary, he enjoyed her closeness! Even breathing in her presence made him feel strangely content.

What was happening? Since developing this “strange illness,” he had never experienced this before.

He knew well—the merest touch of female skin would trigger a severe allergic reaction, once nearly suffocating him.

Saliva, sweat, tears—even the slightest contact was poison to him.

But tonight, it was different. This peculiar comfort nearly overwhelmed him.

His mind commanded him to behave, but his will was on the verge of collapse.

He looked down at the girl in his arms, incredulous. The “little white rabbit” was curled up in fear, trying to appear tough. The faint scent of gardenia in her dark hair, her fitted top outlining a perfect figure.

He lowered his chin unconsciously, their foreheads separated by only a strand of hair. His Adam’s apple rolled nervously, his face burning as he leaned close to her ear.

He was frustrated by his illness!

The girl was like a magnet, drawing him closer. The nearer he got, the more settled his breath became.

Just then, three figures rose from the darkness at the other end of the workshop, heading toward them.

The girl in his arms turned to him, raising a slender finger and pursing her lips—“shh.”

Her adorable gesture made Qiao Muting’s heart flutter.

“Big brother, you’re too jumpy. There’s no one here.”

“Better to be cautious.”

“Another couple days here and I’m done. When Old Four returns, we’ll cash out and go have some fun.”

“That’s right, big brother. Enjoy a day, earn a day. Worst case, we end up eating ‘government meals.’”

“Government meals? Don’t be naive. For what we’ve done, we’ll be eating lead if we get caught. I warn you, Shuanzi, don’t get careless. I don’t want to go in.”

As the three drew closer, she could see them: the leader was tall and fierce-looking, followed by a fat man, and Shuanzi, who carried a burlap sack on his shoulder.

From their conversation, it was clear all three were desperate criminals.

They returned to their makeshift camp, cooked a meal, and after rounds of drinking, the fat man fell into a thunderous sleep.

“Big brother, why is Old Four taking so long? Could he have…”

“Old Four’s slow. Always dragging his feet. Shuanzi, get some sleep. I’ll guard outside for the first half of the night.” With that, the leader strode out of the workshop.

Qian Lai grumbled inwardly. If not for the sudden appearance of the man behind her, she could have hidden in her space and been sleeping soundly on her luxurious bed.

Why suffer like this… sitting on his lap all night?!

The space was cramped, and his legs took up too much room.

She looked back at Qiao Muting, her eyes asking, Are we staying like this all night?

Qiao Muting’s gaze was gentle, his reply: Wait a little longer.

Time ticked by—it must be near midnight.

She straightened her stiff back, and the man gently touched her slender waist, reminding her not to make a sound.

His warm, steady breath gradually eased her nerves. She thought, he must not be a bad person.

Several times, she glanced up at him; his jaw was as sharp as her life plans, his Adam’s apple rolling steadily, her forehead occasionally brushing his neck—she swallowed hard.

There was something strange about the atmosphere!

Even in her future life, she'd never been so close to a man for so long.

The man noticed her gaze, lowered his eyes, and his lips curved into a perfect smile.

To Qian Lai, it seemed three parts cunning, five parts unruly, and two parts smug.

But she had to admit, his looks were flawless.

Sword-like brows, a nose like a peak, full lips, their corners always slightly raised.

Only pity—the peach blossom eyes with dark underlines, surrounded by beauties, gold hairpins and jade ornaments scattered at will.

Tsk tsk, a heartbreaker and a spendthrift.

“Don’t move!”

“Police!”

Countless beams from flashlights suddenly shattered her thoughts, red and blue lights flickering into the workshop.

“Stay here. Don’t move.”

That deep, magnetic voice sounded again by her ear. In a flash, he sprang forward, dashing toward the two sleeping men.