Volume One, Chapter Seventeen: The White Land Rover

After ten minutes of beating, Wu Rui finally instructed the security guards to stop and sent them out to continue patrolling the factory. Wu Rui glanced at me with disdain and tossed a pack of tissues. I caught it, bitterness flashing across my face, and wiped the blood from the corners of my mouth and chin. Then I went over to help Han Feng, who was lying on the ground, to his feet.

Han Feng had been severely beaten; his clothes were torn to shreds. Leaning on his cane, his body trembled painfully. Having endured many beatings before, he had desperately shielded his head, so his face was unscathed.

“Han Feng, I never thought you’d be so useless. Where’s the pride you used to have?” Wu Rui sneered.

“I’m part of the disabled club now. No more mocking, please!” Han Feng smiled wryly and shook his head but maintained his arrogance. He turned to me and said, “Xiao Yan, light up a cigarette for me.”

Only then did I notice the bruising on Han Feng’s right wrist; it was swollen inward, probably useless now. Obediently, I took a cigarette from his pocket and lit it for him.

Han Feng took a few drags, exhaled smoke, and smiled, “Old Wu, brother, I just got out of jail. Damn, things have been rough. That money you owe me from when your factory was short on funds—time to pay up, right?”

“Pay your mother!” Wu Rui snapped in anger. “You slept with my wife back then. How do you plan to repay me for that debt?”

I was stunned. Han Feng had done something so despicable—his character was truly rotten.

Realizing there was a third party present, Wu Rui shot me two hostile glares. I shivered and hastily waved my hands, shaking my head. “I—I didn’t hear anything.”

“Just keep your mouth shut,” Wu Rui said threateningly.

I nodded vigorously and instinctively took two steps back.

“Old Wu, you can’t blame me. Blame your wife for being too alluring,” Han Feng grinned arrogantly. I wanted to hit him just for that.

“Damn it!” Wu Rui was furious, grabbing an ashtray and hurling it at Han Feng. Han Feng dodged by turning his head, but Wu Rui ended up covered in ash, looking even more miserable.

Han Feng’s expression finally turned cold as he dusted himself off.

“Old Wu, if it weren’t for my troubles, I wouldn’t care about that petty money. You’ve beaten me and cursed me, so get it off your chest and pay up!”

“Dream on. Not a single cent,” Wu Rui flatly refused.

I looked at Han Feng; even a fool could see Wu Rui had no intention of paying, leaving Han Feng with no good outcome.

But Han Feng chuckled, the smoke he exhaled making his eyes look even more inscrutable.

“If you won’t pay, I’ll go after your wife to make her pay. Don’t doubt it—I can still pin her down on the bed with one leg,” Han Feng threatened.

Wu Rui gasped sharply, clutching his balding head, his face contorted with rage. “Son of a bitch, I see it now—you’re sick of living and want to die!”

“Come on, try and kill me,” Han Feng said nonchalantly, then pointed at me. “My brother here keeps his mouth shut, but I can’t say the same. Who knows, maybe one day after a few drinks, he’ll spill all your wife’s dirty secrets.”

The room fell into a terrifying silence.

My heart pounded like a drum, afraid the security guards would barge in and beat us both to death.

After a long pause, Wu Rui finally spat two words at Han Feng: “You’re ruthless!”

Wu Rui scowled and pulled a wad of cash from the drawer—ten thousand yuan in hundred-yuan bills.

He slammed the money hard across the table onto Han Feng, making him stagger and nearly fall. I hurried over to steady him.

Han Feng’s lips curled into a victorious smile. “Brother, grab the money. Let’s get out of here!”

Seeing Wu Rui make no move, I hesitated, then quickly picked up the cash and helped Han Feng leave the office.

Han Feng leaned heavily on his cane, wheezing as he walked. He looked pitiful.

“Brother Feng, should we take you to the hospital?”

“It’s nothing. A little pain in the storm is nothing,” Han Feng stubbornly replied. “Just rest when we get back. Let’s hurry before that bastard changes his mind and chases us. This trip would have been for nothing.”

I gritted my teeth, hoisted Han Feng on my back, and sprinted toward the main gate.

Soon I was drenched in sweat and gasping for breath.

Han Feng, moved by my effort, leaned on my shoulder. “Brother, you’re loyal. Rest assured, I won’t treat you badly. Wealth and glory are just around the corner.”

I replied vaguely with a grunt, but in my heart, I hoped Han Feng wouldn’t cause me any more trouble or get me beaten again.

We finally exited the fertilizer factory gates, with no one chasing us.

Just then, a taxi pulled up. I hurriedly waved it down.

I helped Han Feng lie down in the back seat and settled myself in the front passenger seat, urging the driver to hurry.

As the taxi left the factory behind, escaping the den of wolves, I slumped back, unwilling to move.

Recalling the debt collection scene still sent chills down my spine.

Han Feng was not a social leader but more like a rogue scoundrel who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals.

I understood nothing and had clearly chosen the wrong person to follow.

The taxi stopped at a red light ahead.

At that moment, a white Land Rover sped by and stopped in the adjacent lane.

The driver was a middle-aged man, slightly overweight, dressed in a sharp suit, his hair slicked back with oil—a typical nouveau riche.

With a lecherous grin, he reached over while stopped and touched the face of the woman beside him.

When I got a good look at the woman, I was stunned.

It was Xu Li, my stepmother.

No wonder she dressed carefully and came home late—she had a lover on the side.

My father had been away on business trips a lot lately, rarely home.

At her age, with such insatiable desires, how could she resist the urge in the dead of night?

She had committed the disgraceful act of cheating on my father.

At that moment, I felt sorry for my dad but also thought he deserved it.

He abandoned his wife and daughter to marry his dream woman at any cost—only to get this shameless woman.

Xu Li flirted with the man in the car, touching his face and legs with great intimacy.

They didn’t notice me quietly watching from the taxi nearby; how I wished I had a camera to capture it all.

The light turned green, and the Land Rover sped away.

The taxi stopped near an old residential complex by the park. I helped Han Feng out and we walked through a dim corridor plastered with small advertisements, arriving at a door on the third floor.

This was Han Feng’s home, his only fixed asset.

He told me that when he was very young, his father ran off with another woman and never returned.

His mother was heartbroken, mentally distraught, and went insane within a few years.

The poor woman was still in a psychiatric hospital, and when Han Feng visited after prison, she didn’t recognize him. She only asked him to bring his son.

Since the age of ten, Han Feng had been homeless, scavenging, eating leftovers, enduring contempt and ridicule.

Eventually, he chose to live by his own rules, alone and unburdened, and quickly made a name for himself.

I seemed to have lived better than Han Feng but was also battered and bewildered by life.

Entering Han Feng’s small apartment—one bedroom and a living room—the furniture was old, the middle of the sofa sagging, as if stepping back twenty years in time.

Only the guitar hanging on the wall lent a touch of modernity.