Late at night, Jin Xueshen tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
He managed the money.
These funds of dubious origin burned his hands.
But he knew what Boss Fu would say if he went to him.
“Oh, Ning-ning’s an adult now. Kids grow up, can’t control them.”
Jin Xueshen: “…” Damn it.
Before Ning Zhuo turned twenty, when Jin Xueshen complained to Boss Fu, he’d drawl, “Oh, he’s still a kid.”
Now past twenty, he’s suddenly uncontrollable?
Why was he always the one being coddled!
Jin Xueshen, too restless to lie still, sat up, deciding to burn off his frustration with exercise.
But after firing a dozen arrows, his chest felt no lighter—only more stifled.
He tossed the bow aside, pacing the hallway like a caged beast.
He couldn’t face Boss Fu, nor could he vent to “Haina’s” crew.
As “Haina’s” third-in-command, he couldn’t shake morale.
Besides, they worshipped Ning Zhuo like a god; his words would fall on deaf ears.
Lost in thought, Jin Xueshen found himself at Yu Shifei’s door.
After hesitating, he unleashed a barrage of aggressive knocks.
He felt justified confronting Yu Shifei.
Shan Feibai and Ning Zhuo were causing chaos together—Panqiao’s second-in-command should take responsibility!
How could he be the only one losing sleep?!
At such a late-night disturbance, Yu Shifei opened the door with a calm expression.
Jin Xueshen, fuming, opened his mouth to speak, but his words choked as his eyes landed on Yu Shifei.
…He was completely naked.
Jin Xueshen covered his eyes, his voice faltering: “What are you doing?!”
Yu Shifei, unabashed, had his reasoning: “I could tell you were in a hurry.”
Jin Xueshen, torn between fleeing and staying, grabbed his coat and threw it over. “Put it on!”
Yu Shifei held the coat, still warm with Jin Xueshen’s sweat, and said calmly, “I’m not a woman.”
Jin Xueshen barked, “Stop talking nonsense! Get dressed!”
Yu Shifei indeed wasn’t a woman.
But his skin was snow-white, with delicate pink accents at his chest, more lifelike than human.
One glance, and Jin Xueshen felt like Yu Shifei was the one wronged.
After a brief flurry, Jin Xueshen sat face-to-face with Yu Shifei, still huffing.
Unwilling to be too open, Jin Xueshen only briefly outlined their abnormal financial situation.
Finally, he asked, “What do you think those two are up to?”
Yu Shifei sat cross-legged, serene, unhurried: “Our boss often disappears like this. It’s a bit longer this time, but no need to worry too much.”
Jin Xueshen, finding another carefree soul, grew more exasperated: “You don’t care where he goes?”
Yu Shifei nodded. “We do.”
He gestured: “Like you care about your boss. But we’re all adults—we don’t lose sleep over it.”
Jin Xueshen shot up, face red: “Who cares about him? Show me one word where I sound like I care? Ridiculous!”
Yu Shifei blinked, seeing right through him.
As an android, learning to navigate human interactions was part of his daily study.
He found Jin Xueshen particularly interesting and didn’t want to drive him off, so he switched topics: “Feibai’s always eager to make money.”
“No kidding,” Jin Xueshen sneered. “He’ll take any cash.”
Yu Shifei nodded earnestly: “He loves money.”
Jin Xueshen scoffed: “Then why not go back and inherit his family fortune?”
To his surprise, Yu Shifei said, “That’s not enough.”
Jin Xueshen inhaled sharply, looking up.
After years of clashing with Shan Feibai’s “Panqiao,” he could never trust them: “What’s he need all that money for?”
Yu Shifei, thinking, said, “He mentioned a thing or two…”
Yu Shifei recalled a distant afternoon.
Shan Feibai wore a blue-and-white sailor shirt, a bright red headband pulling back his hair, revealing a sharp, clean forehead.
His youthful spirit practically overflowed, like the star player on a school basketball team, adored by all.
Shan Feibai was staring at a card.
Yu Shifei asked, “What’re you looking at?”
With a milk candy in his mouth, Shan Feibai mumbled, “My money.”
The crass answer clashed with his youthful, clean look.
Yu Shifei, curious: “How much?”
Shan Feibai pushed the candy to one cheek, puffing it out, and whispered a number in his ear.
Yu Shifei, unmoved: “That’s a lot.”
Through years of risking lives and scheming—plus clashing with Ning Zhuo—they’d amassed a fortune, rebuilding faster than the Shan family’s decline.
In his twenties, with no vices, Shan Feibai’s only hobby was guns, and his wealth rivaled many upper-city tycoons.
He tapped the card against his palm, muttering, “Just this much—how’s that enough?”
Yu Shifei asked, “What do you want to do?”
Shan Feibai grinned: “Can’t tell you.”
…
Seeing he’d get nothing from Yu Shifei, Jin Xueshen shrugged, about to speak, when Yu Shifei turned toward the door, frowning slightly.
Jin Xueshen: “What?”
“The elevator outside is moving,” Yu Shifei said. “Who’s coming this late?”
Jin Xueshen: “…You got dog ears or something?”
Yu Shifei, earnestly: “My sensors are top-notch, latest model. Want to try a set?”
As he spoke, he placed his palm on Jin Xueshen’s abdomen. “Your gear sounds a bit outdated.”
His hand, cool to the touch, pressed against Jin Xueshen’s warm stomach, sending goosebumps racing across his skin.
Yu Shifei’s tone was solemn, devoid of any flirtation, making Jin Xueshen feel awkward for overreacting.
He gripped his knees, sitting upright, eyes fixed ahead, though his abdomen tensed slightly in resistance.
Yu Shifei sensed his discomfort—though the reason was unclear.
He withdrew his hand. “Who’s here?”
Jin Xueshen exhaled discreetly, got up, opened the door, and peered out, concluding: “A guest. Elevator stopped at the first floor.”
Yu Shifei: “…At this hour?”
Jin Xueshen, mildly annoyed: “Why’re you always prying into our business?”
Yu Shifei, innocently: “I’m not. I’m only prying into you.”
“You—”
Speechless, Jin Xueshen felt toyed with by this cunning android.
He stood abruptly. “I’m leaving.”
Yu Shifei, disappointed: “Already?”
His disappointment threw Jin Xueshen further off balance.
He shouldn’t have come here!
Stepping out of Yu Shifei’s room, his cheeks burned.
Irritated, he tugged his collar, strode forward a few steps, then doubled back, pounding the door just as aggressively.
The door opened just as quickly.
Without looking at Yu Shifei, Jin Xueshen barked, “Wear clothes next time you see someone!”
Dropping the line, he avoided Yu Shifei’s gaze and stormed off.
Yu Shifei’s eyes locked onto his retreating back, intrigued.
Only when Jin Xueshen vanished at the corridor’s end did he turn his gaze to the elevator.
Who was receiving a guest now?
…
The one greeting the mysterious late-night visitor was the affable Boss Fu.
Charlemagne’s old butler glanced around, but his eyes stayed fixed on Boss Fu, never wavering.
After sizing him up, the butler felt neither reassured nor uneasy.
Boss Fu exuded a homely air, lacking Ning Zhuo’s blood-stained sharpness. His gaze was gentle, not the kind that made your scalp crawl.
…The butler had been truly rattled by Ning Zhuo’s volatility.
But Fu looked soft, easy to manipulate.
Under the butler’s scrutiny, Boss Fu flashed a warm, disarming smile. “Got some business to entrust to ‘Haina’?”
The butler caught a slip in his words, leaning back leisurely to begin his spiel: “I heard ‘Haina’ and ‘Panqiao’ merged, but it seems ‘Haina’ took the lead.”
Boss Fu blinked, realizing he’d only mentioned “Haina.”
He chuckled, “Whoops, my bad. Still getting used to it.”
“Habits are tricky,” the butler said mildly. “They become second nature. Once you’re used to something, you go numb. Like… your surname’s Fu, right?”
Boss Fu, seemingly guileless, nodded. “Yep.”
The butler, as if on Fu’s side, sighed regretfully: “Everyone knows ‘Haina’s’ leader is Ning Zhuo, ‘Panqiao’s’ is Shan Feibai. Who knows you?”
“Oh, come on,” Boss Fu smiled smoothly. “Known or not, doesn’t matter. I’m too old to compete with the youngsters.”
Before the butler could probe further, Boss Fu said cheerfully, “I’m a bit slow, so just say it straight. I can’t keep up with riddles.”
The butler sipped his coffee, peering over the steaming cup, gauging if Fu was genuine or playing coy.
Fu was old, yet he looked young.
His face, at twenty, seemed thirty; at forty, still thirty.
Who doesn’t crave power?
With power came everything—money, cars, houses, women.
If Fu was posturing, the butler would call his bluff.
Lowering his voice, he said, “You’re a straight shooter, so I’ll be one too.”
Boss Fu removed his glasses, leaning in naturally. “Go ahead.”
But the butler couldn’t speak.
His mouth gaped, lips trembling, his expression twisting in agony, yet no words came.
“…Speak.”
Boss Fu, a bloodied blade between his teeth, gave a radiant smile.
He propped his chin. “What were you gonna say?”
No one knew why he carried such a thing.
The butler hadn’t seen how he’d slit his throat.
The blade was too fast; blood hadn’t even spilled from his neck.
He clutched the table, trembling, trying to stand, but Boss Fu pressed his head down, forcing his neck lower.
The butler froze in terror, his mouth blocked by his tongue, not a sound escaping.
“Don’t move. Don’t stain your clothes.”
Boss Fu slid a trash bin over, thoughtfully positioning it under the butler’s bleeding neck.
His technique was precise, directing every drop into the bin, like bleeding a chicken.
His demeanor remained gentle. “Let me guess. You think I’m young, with Ning Zhuo above me, I’d be resentful, right?”
He tutted: “Our family business—why’s it your concern? You know how hard I worked for a normal life? Coming here to ruin my good days—you’re meddling.”
Boss Fu sat on the table’s edge, politely adding, “Oh, thanks for your Charlemagne taking care of my Ning-ning.”
The butler’s shoulders shook.
It was his final struggle.
Soon, he went still.
Boss Fu lifted his limp hand, shaping it into a farewell gesture, softly saying, “Bye-bye—”
Then, he grabbed the hand, deftly stripping the butler bare.
Ten minutes later, someone wrapped in a heavy suit, holding a coffee cup, walked out.
The butler had come stealthily, fully disguised.
Boss Fu mimicked his gait perfectly, even the detail of avoiding his injured hand to hold the cup.
He got in the car, counting the cash the butler brought.
…Only 2 million? No vision.
Was that all Ning Zhuo was worth?
He raised his hand, wearing a glove replicating the butler’s fingerprints.
He started the car, weaving purposefully through Silver Hammer City’s streets.
Under a high-def camera, Boss Fu used the butler’s money to buy an expensive bottle of red wine.
He drank as he drove, gradually leaving the surveillance zone, heading to the lower city’s harbor district.
The butler’s car, though understated, stood out in the lower city.
Boss Fu drove it erratically, drawing eyes.
After leaving ample witnesses, he downed the last of the wine, floored the gas, and sent the car plunging off a ten-meter cliff.
Below was the sea.
Amid the salty sea breeze, in the weightless fall, Boss Fu leapt from the driver’s window like a leopard.
The car’s loud splash drowned out his sleek entry into the water.
His movements were so fluid, so practiced, as if rehearsed countless times.
