Chapter 176: The Perils of the Jianghu

County Chief Chen had a total of five secretaries, and this time he brought along his first and second secretaries.

The first secretary, a graduate student, was still eyeing Uncle Jianguo with suspicion. When Uncle Jianguo introduced himself earlier, the secretary had frowned, unable to catch the name clearly, though he didn’t press further for now.

Both Uncle Jianguo and I noticed this. County Chief Chen would be easy to handle, but this first secretary was a tougher nut to crack—after all, he was a highly educated university graduate.

Tonight’s mission was simple: Uncle Jianguo would deal with County Chief Chen, while I’d handle the first secretary—a twenty-eight-year-old rural development graduate.

I almost forgot—I, too, was a philosophy graduate, a product of higher education. My goal was to outwit him through sheer persuasion.

I drove the Audi, chauffeuring Uncle Jianguo and County Chief Chen while Uncle Jianguo poured on the charm.

The first and second secretaries, along with County Chief Chen’s driver, followed us in another car, leisurely making their way to Weiyang Hotel, the best five-star hotel in Jiangcheng. The last time I was here, I was looking for Meng Liuchuan.

The first secretary spared no expense, booking two presidential suites while the rest of the entourage settled for standard rooms.

When the first secretary was about to call for escorts, I quickly stopped him. “That’s not a good idea,” I said. “The boss doesn’t like that kind of thing—it’s a matter of discipline.”

His hand trembled slightly, his eyes flashing with something strange. After a pause, he asked, “Then how about some male escorts?”

Realizing he hadn’t gotten the hint, I chuckled. “Our boss isn’t into that either. We’re here to discuss important matters with County Chief Chen.”

After some negotiation, we settled for simple room service—no escorts. Uncle Jianguo talked late into the night, County Chief Chen yawning repeatedly, but Uncle Jianguo insisted on discussing state affairs with him.

The first secretary shot me a suspicious glance, clearly puzzled. County Chief Chen’s nose was smaller than his eyes, and his eyes were bigger than his mouth—how on earth had higher-ups taken a liking to him? Observing County Chief Chen’s lack of protest, the secretary discreetly placed two extra-large Durex condoms nearby before quietly excusing himself.

Uncle Jianguo signaled me with a look, and I followed suit, leaving with the first secretary. Of course, as planned, I left Zhu Ruhua behind with Uncle Jianguo and County Chief Chen.

The first secretary relaxed, ordering a bottle of red wine. I was worried he’d grill me about the “New Rural Development Major Issues Research Department,” but instead, he asked random questions after pouring the wine.

I learned his name was Song Youwei—meaning “great achievements in life.” After some rambling about family history, I gathered he was from Songxi Village.

I quickly lied, saying I was from the mountains of Jiangxi, inexperienced in the world, and that my name was Lin Danan.

After a while, Song Youwei scooted closer. By the end of the night, he was calling me “Brother Nan,” sending shivers down my spine.

He was older than me—shouldn’t he be calling me Danan or “Little Nan”?

Suddenly, I felt the perils of the underworld—my whole body tensed.

Song Youwei asked, “Brother Nan, how’d you get that gunshot wound on your face?”

I swallowed hard, suppressing the urge to punch him. With a cold smile, I said, “Got it during a mission in the Golden Triangle.”

I figured I might as well spin a tale—I was a bodyguard, after all. The truth was, Shen Yihu had accidentally shot me during a misfire, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.

Song Youwei’s eyes sparkled with admiration. He scooted even closer. “Brother Nan, tell me about your mission in the Golden Triangle!”

A creeping suspicion told me Song Youwei might be a little… off. But I couldn’t be sure if he was just playing mind games. Ignoring his proximity, I calmly recounted a fabricated tale—harsh conditions, a two-day stakeout, a fierce battle with bandits, and the facial injury that ended my military career after my girlfriend left me. “Women aren’t worth it,” I concluded.

Song Youwei clapped excitedly. “Amazing! So amazing!”

Then he asked, “Brother Nan, do you prefer black stockings or nude ones?”

I hesitated. “Black, I guess.”

Was he about to call for escorts? Song Youwei suddenly stood up, skipped into the suite, and peeked out. “Don’t peek!”

I had no idea what he was up to—maybe a surprise? The air conditioning was blasting, so I took off my jacket and finished my drink. I considered checking on Uncle Jianguo but figured the old fox had County Chief Chen under control.

Standing by the window, I gazed at the city’s dazzling lights, the neon streaks painting the streets like a dream.

If you love a city, every corner is beautiful.

One city, one person.

One person, one heart.

Lost in thought, Song Youwei called out, “Brother Nan, turn around!” I assumed the black-stockinged escorts had arrived—though wearing stockings in winter must’ve been freezing.

I turned—no escorts. Only Song Youwei, wrapped in a bedsheet, shivering.

“Where are the stockings?” I asked, disappointed but hiding it.

Song Youwei, flushed from wine, asked, “Brother Nan, you said women aren’t worth it. Really?”

Still testing me? I nodded firmly. “Absolutely.”

Song Youwei grinned. “Do I look pretty?”

With a flick, the bedsheet flew off, revealing hairy legs squeezed into black stockings.

I—I need to slam my head into a wall.

I barely kept my wine down, turning away in horror.

Song Youwei pressed, “Brother Nan, do you like it?”

I threw the sheet back at him, then slapped him. “Get lost! Not my type!”

Song Youwei only grew more excited, his eyes gleaming unnaturally.

I couldn’t take it anymore. Grabbing my jacket, I bolted.

Behind me, Song Youwei sighed. “He took off his jacket… he’s just playing hard to get.”

The underworld is full of traps!

Hungry, I checked the time—almost midnight. Downstairs, the lobby was empty. The last time I was here, Xu Lei was at the front desk. Flirting with the receptionist, I learned he’d been promoted to sales manager and was off-duty.

Outside, an elderly man sold roasted sweet potatoes, bundled in layers against the cold.

Curious about the crowds, I asked, “What’s the occasion?”

“Christmas,” he said, handing me a potato. “Kids are out having fun.”

Ah, right. I pulled out my phone to text Chen Tutu “Merry Christmas,” then remembered—she was on a date with that young professor. Better not interfere.

Munching on the potato, I watched couples stroll by. One girl, hand in hand with her boyfriend, was suddenly intercepted by a bespectacled young man.

“Xiao Mei, don’t you love me anymore?” he pleaded.

Xiao Mei hesitated. “I’m sorry, A-Xue. Your 700,000-word love letters moved me, but A-Fu is taking me to Bali and bought me a phone. I love him.”

Heartbroken, A-Xue stood frozen.

I waved him over. “Hey, have some sweet potato. Look at all those discarded flowers—I got rejected too. Misery loves company.”

The old man handed him a potato. “This’ll warm your broken heart.”

A-Xue burst into tears. Turns out, he was a straight-A student who’d written 700,000 words for Xiao Mei.

I patted his back. “Make money first. Women will come.”

He asked, “Are women really not worth it?”

The old man chimed in, “Women are endlessly fascinating.”

I cheered. “Endlessly fascinating! A-Xue, study hard!”

Nodding, A-Xue declared, “I’ll get 99% on my next exam! Then Xiao Mei will come back!” With renewed confidence, he marched off.

Too cold to linger, I headed back to the hotel. If Song Youwei tried anything, I’d just book another room.

In the lobby, I spotted Chen Tutu in a trench coat, lips lightly glossed, hair down—but with tear streaks. Hiding behind a pillar, I figured she was here for Christmas.

Then a well-dressed man—polished shoes, slicked-back hair—chased after her. “Tutu, listen to me!”

He grabbed her hands. From their argument, it seemed the young professor was married.

Chen Tutu yelled at him to leave.

I couldn’t take it. Stepping out, I growled, “Let her go. Now.”

Chen Tutu’s eyes flickered with surprise before she schooled her expression.

I shoved the professor, grabbed his collar, and slapped him twice. Then I pulled Chen Tutu into a kiss. “Scram, you hypocrite!”

(Admittedly, my breath probably smelled like sweet potato. But like Zeng Xiaoxian kissing Hu Yifei, I went all in.)

Chen Tutu pushed me away—then kicked the professor between the legs.

She laughed, triumphant.

If life were a movie, this would’ve been the perfect ending. But reality had other plans.

Because then, from the lobby, an enraged Song Youwei charged at us, pointing at me and shouting at Chen Tutu:

“He’s MY man!”

I wanted to vanish into the floor.

All I could think was: The underworld is ruthless.

In this world, you’re always one step away from disaster.