Between Ma Yushu’s mouth full of lies, there were indeed one or two truths.
The series of small deals brought by that cowardly man earlier had already drained Ma Yushu’s cash reserves.
He now had only about one million in hand.
But no matter, he had someone above him.
After quickly reporting the details of this deal, it was up to Motobu Ryo, the big shot behind him, to take over.
Motobu Ryo had indeed hit rock bottom lately, reduced to fighting over garbage with veteran homeless people in Silver Hammer and even injuring his ankle.
He had been in contact with the “Tuner,” purpose unknown, but it was highly likely he was inquiring about Motobu Takeshi’s whereabouts.
Clearly, he didn’t get what he wanted.
And what drove him to come here for a loan was Motobu Takeshi’s death.
His family didn’t care for him, and he had few friends. He was a tech guy, without the means to do manual labor. As a newly crippled man, his brain was the only thing of value, yet he was penniless, with no upward channels, and could only turn to shady means.
Everything made perfect sense.
Thus, 20 million was transferred almost at the speed of light.
Ma Yushu handed the drafted contract to Motobu Ryo, flattering him: “In all of Silver Hammer, only you, Mr. Motobu, are worth this price.”
Motobu Ryo scrutinized the exorbitant interest rates, his brows furrowed tightly, not relaxing a bit despite the flattery: “I want the full amount, no handling fees. A deposit is fine, but it can’t be this high.”
He wrote a number on the paper, looked up, his eyes filled with barely suppressed embarrassment: “…For the sake of our friendship.”
Ma Yushu, who had no real friendship with Motobu Ryo, frowned, seemingly undergoing a fierce internal struggle before finally slapping his thigh: “Fine, I can make the call. I’ll tell my higher-ups, and if there’s any risk, I’ll take it! For the sake of our friendship!”
He acted bold and generous, while Motobu Ryo’s mood grew heavy.
He sat for over an hour, took the money, and left in a hurry without lingering.
As soon as Motobu Ryo disappeared, Ma Yushu spat loudly: “Still the same old pathetic, grave-weeping attitude, with that long face like everyone owes him something.”
A lackey sidled up, fawning: “Isn’t he owing you now?”
Ma Yushu slapped the armrest of the sofa, laughing: “Exactly.”
Excited, he couldn’t sit still and jumped up: “Let’s go! We just made a huge deal—time to treat you all to a good meal.”
…
Ma Yushu was delighted, his lackeys were delighted, and the people who lent him money were delighted.
The only unlucky one was Min Min.
Min Min walked out of the operating room, complaining right away: “I’m dead tired!”
The timid man who first borrowed money from Ma Yushu had been nervously squatting in the hallway. Seeing Min Min come out, he hurriedly stood up, clasping his hands, anxiously asking: “Doctor, how’s my little girl?”
Phoenix timely handed Min Min a glass of papaya juice: “You worked hard.”
Min Min took it, sipped through the straw, and said to the man: “She’s asleep. The anesthetic Phoenix prepared is strong but has no side effects—she’ll be able to walk when she wakes up. Her face was shaped based on the photo you gave me. I can’t guarantee a 100% match. Her nose wasn’t very high before, and she had some freckles. I gave her skin a treatment and raised her nose bridge a bit. You don’t mind, do you?”
The man’s eyes sparkled, tears welling up: “Thank you, thank you, Doctor…”
His knees buckled, about to kneel.
Min Min, seeing this, quickly nudged his knee with her shoe, stopping him mid-kneel: “Hey, hey, hey, don’t do that! I’ve been annoyed by people bowing to me these past few days. I’m a doctor, not Mazu. …Stay here for a couple more days. When your daughter wakes up, discuss with your wife, and I’ll make some tweaks to your appearance so you won’t be recognized on the street. Silver Hammer is crowded, but you never know. If you run into someone surnamed Ma on the street one day, you won’t even have time to run.”
With that, Min Min turned and grabbed Phoenix: “Let’s go, quick! I hate it when people kowtow to me.”
Phoenix was dragged along, glancing back once to see the man’s eyes filled with hopeful light, hands clasped, bowing repeatedly to their backs with reverence and gratitude.
Even his bowing was clumsy, almost comical, yet it tugged at the heart.
On their way to grab drinks for a recharge, they passed the room where Yu Shifei and Jin Xueshen were analyzing the situation.
Min Min poked her head in, teasing: “Mr. Fat-Headed Bird, what do you want to drink?”
Jin Xueshen: “Scram, scram, scram!”
Phoenix: “Old Yu?”
Yu Shifei: “I’ll take 200 ml of motor oil.”
He glanced at Jin Xueshen: “He’ll have a coffee, thanks.”
Jin Xueshen didn’t object.
In the mercenary world, Yu Shifei’s nickname was “Silver Rat,” quite fitting.
Silver Rat, adept at infiltrating others’ nests, seizing opportunities, claiming them as his own, moving like the wind, hard to catch.
He was an expert in information warfare, perfectly suited for this operation.
Jin Xueshen asked for confirmation: “…The info we showed to that bastard Ma won’t have any issues, right?”
Yu Shifei calmly replied: “My ‘cat pool’¹ has been running stably for three years and three months, holding fake info for 20,000 people. Each one has their own address, personality, social network, friends and family, e-commerce purchase history, transfer records, credit bills, AI facial recognition data, and a fixed social circle. They look exactly like real people.”
After a moment’s thought, he added: “Unless Ma Yushu has a full real-time risk assessment system.”
Jin Xueshen frowned: “Would that guy Ma have such a system?”
Yu Shifei: “No.”
Jin Xueshen: “…”
Yu Shifei: “There’s only one in all of Silver Hammer. At Ruiteng Company.”
Jin Xueshen exhaled, punching Yu Shifei’s shoulder: “Then why’d you say that!?”
Yu Shifei, innocent: “I have to consider all possibilities.”
For some reason, the more Jin Xueshen interacted with him, the more the spoiled young master from his early years wanted to come out and show off.
He poked Yu Shifei’s shoulder, unrelenting: “Shaking the troops’ morale!”
Yu Shifei placed his hand flat on his chest.
His algorithms and his heartbeat told him he really liked this version of Jin Xueshen.
Even though this feeling was as irrational as his self-reproach.
Yu Shifei said softly: “Sorry.”
Min Min and Phoenix, eavesdropping outside, exchanged a smile and turned to leave.
Thanks to landing a huge deal, the base was livelier than ever.
“Haina” and “Panqiao,” rivals for years, knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses inside out, secretly competing, preparing for a life-or-death battle one day.
Yet now, working together, they needed no adjustment, like old friends.
They moved forward awkwardly side by side, yet unexpectedly harmonious.
…
When Ning Zhuo found Shan Feibai, he was in the shooting range.
Shan Feibai wore orange-red shooting glasses covering half his face, his wolf-tail ponytail tied high, with only a few loose strands brushing his neck, his posture tall and straight like a pine.
As Ning Zhuo entered, he had just finished a round.
Perhaps sensing footsteps behind him, Shan Feibai spun around, aiming his gun at Ning Zhuo: “Don’t move!”
Ning Zhuo stopped, watching him from a distance.
A thin, deep-red laser line extended from the muzzle, brushing Ning Zhuo’s clothes, lingering briefly at his abdomen and hip, then moving upward, settling on his chest.
Perhaps the shooting range was too warm, but the laser felt almost tangible, carrying an ambiguous heat, guiding Ning Zhuo’s blood to rush toward his heart, making the soft flesh in his chest beat fast and fierce.
Shan Feibai mimicked the sound of a bullet firing: “Pew.”
Ning Zhuo: “Childish.”
The childish Shan Feibai spun around, landing a precise and ruthless shot on the moving target behind him.
The last bullet hit the bullseye dead center.
Ning Zhuo’s fingertips twitched slightly.
…Was there still a bullet in his gun just now?
In the lingering smoke, Shan Feibai shot Ning Zhuo a provocative glance.
That look was enough to throw someone’s hormones into chaos, either charming them or enraging them.
Knowing it was intentional, Ning Zhuo remained unmoved and found a chair to sit on at the edge of the range.
Once seated, he deliberately touched the bite mark on his left ring finger.
It throbbed faintly, ticklish and intense.
Shan Feibai removed his protective goggles, revealing a cheek glistening with fine sweat.
The shooting range was indeed hot.
Instead of sitting side by side with Ning Zhuo, he sat cross-legged on the floor, facing him.
One up, one down; one high, one low.
Shan Feibai shed his earlier wildness, pressing his sweaty forehead against Ning Zhuo’s knee, nuzzling playfully.
Arrogant and untamed, yet also prone to instinctive affection—it was all him.
Ning Zhuo instinctively placed his hand on Shan Feibai’s slightly damp, fluffy hair, savoring the brief intimacy of their touch.
He thought, perhaps this was why he came to find Shan Feibai.
They had left the most unique marks on each other, a kind of primal, possessive claim like animals marking their territory.
As adults, they silently longed for each other.
…It was an unspoken understanding.
The next moment, Shan Feibai seemed to read his mind from thin air, lifting his head to reveal sharp canine teeth: “Ning-ge, why’d you come looking for me?”
Ning Zhuo, tired from overthinking, had wandered aimlessly out of his room without realizing he was seeking Shan Feibai until he reached the shooting range.
Ning Zhuo said, “To discuss something with you.”
Shan Feibai: “Is it urgent?”
Ning Zhuo glanced at him: “You got something else going on?”
Shan Feibai replied earnestly, “I missed you too, Ning-ge. Let’s kiss.”
Taking advantage of his lower position, he didn’t wait for permission or allow Ning Zhuo to object to the word “too.” He leaned up and kissed Ning Zhuo’s Adam’s apple.
His lips were hot and soft, his teeth sharp and cold. The alternating sensations sent a shiver through Ning Zhuo, his shoulders and neck tingling as if electrified.
Ning Zhuo turned his face away, lips pressed into a thin line, as if suppressing something, yet finding Shan Feibai’s boldness amusing.
He cupped Shan Feibai’s hair, tugging him back: “What’re you thinking? Be honest.”
So close, Shan Feibai’s eyes swirled with clear desire.
Having tasted pleasure before and being young, he was already stirred.
But he wasn’t an uncivilized savage or a desperate pup wagging its tail. He pressed the empty, still-warm barrel of his gun against Ning Zhuo’s throat, straightening his back: “Just a kiss, nothing more.”
Kneeling on one knee, Shan Feibai slid his familiar gun along Ning Zhuo’s throat, letting its lingering heat graze his collarbone, the hollow of his throat, and his Adam’s apple, feeling the slight hardening of the skin it touched.
He mimicked a kiss with the gun’s muzzle, slowly moving down between Ning Zhuo’s tightly closed legs.
Before Ning Zhuo, caught in the heat of the moment, could grab his wrist, Shan Feibai ended the prolonged, contactless “gun kiss” and pulled back.
His actions felt half-finished.
As Shan Feibai withdrew, Ning Zhuo shamefully felt a pang of emptiness.
Having teased enough, Shan Feibai, enduring his own aching desire, waited smugly for Ning Zhuo’s invitation, confident he had the upper hand.
But Ning Zhuo, older and steadier, leaned back calmly and said, “I think Raskin ruined those girls’ faces. They and their families got no compensation. This time, we’ll let that guy Ma foot the bill.”
“We’re not running a charity either. Let Min Min charge a reasonable fee for the surgeries. Whatever’s left, however much, will be their emotional compensation.”
“What do you think we should charge? A flat 200,000? Or based on the complexity and extent of the surgery?”
Shan Feibai: “…”
His face darkened.
Seeing his sulky, aggrieved expression and his refusal to answer, Ning Zhuo didn’t press him. He casually brushed the back of his fingers against Shan Feibai’s forehead: “Wipe your hair properly with a towel.”
“Your shooting’s gotten rusty,” Ning Zhuo said, glancing at the target. “Not accurate enough.”
Shan Feibai blinked, seeming to catch on.
Ning Zhuo stood, looking down at him, his cold fingers slowly pressing along Shan Feibai’s steel-like spine, sparking invisible flames: “Tonight at nine…”
He checked his watch: “Six hours from now, come find me when you’ve practiced enough.”
Ning Zhuo leaned in, whispering something that sent chaotic blue electronic patterns flickering across Shan Feibai’s face for a long time.
“Keep your gun steady—don’t let it go off.”
Ning Zhuo turned and left.
In his mind, he had defined his relationship with Shan Feibai as a stress-relieving fling.
But teasing Shan Feibai was just as entertaining as the act itself.
Ning Zhuo’s perception of “emotion” was at two natural extremes.
With others, he was measured and calculated, every word and action deliberate and strategic.
With Shan Feibai, from youth to now, he acted on a fiery, instinctual impulse.
All his less-than-calculated decisions had been made for Shan Feibai.
He didn’t know why.
…Perhaps it was a debt from a past life.
…
The one truly drowning in debt was Ma Yushu.
By the time he realized something was wrong, a month had passed.
On the first repayment date, the man who borrowed money for his daughter’s surgery, previously reachable, had vanished without a trace.
This wasn’t unheard of.
Ma Yushu sent his men to collect the debt with force, to teach him the consequences of defaulting.
But when his gang of menacing thugs arrived at the destination, they were dumbfounded to find the residence razed to the ground.
…Where was he?
The men, confused, hurriedly reported back to Ma Yushu.
Hearing this, Ma Yushu’s heart sank.
They had investigated thoroughly at the time.
The man’s profile was complete: a fixed address, a workplace, a social network, call logs, normal credit history, recent purchases of books on cosmetic surgery, even browsing records of adult websites—a living, breathing person.
Yet the man was truly gone.
The company he worked for had only an empty file under his name.
His house had been demolished a month ago.
His “friends and family” were even stranger—all fabricated personas.
The timid man had taken Ma Yushu’s 350,000 and disappeared right under his nose.
The only reliable trace left was a plain, cowardly, shrinking face.
…As if Silver Hammer had never known such a person.
__
Author’s Note:
¹ Cat pool: A communication device extension that uses call forwarding to create the illusion of real interactions, with one number linked to multiple lines to simulate authentic call patterns.
