"Damn it! Come on!"
The gambling den reeked of smoke, sweat, and stale beer. In the middle of the room, a man in a wrinkled white shirt slammed his cards onto the table and cursed with bloodshot eyes. His name was Yan Wenbin—and he had just lost again.
"Long time no see, Wenbin."
A heavy hand clapped his shoulder.
Yan Wenbin's face twisted in rage as he spun around. "Your mom didn't teach you not to touch people when—"
The words caught in his throat.
The man behind him was built like a boulder, muscles bulging under a tight shirt and a massive gold chain around his neck. His face held the kind of grin that made your spine crawl.
"What was that about my mom?"
"N-Nothing, Brother Jin."
"Strange. My mom taught me to always be reasonable, to follow the law..." Jin Ge's grip tightened on Yan Wenbin's shoulder, then steered him out of the smoky room into a narrow alley behind the den.
"The money you owe me is due. With interest, that's 150,000 yuan. So… when are you paying up?"
"Brother Jin, give me a few more days. My luck's been terrible lately—"
"Is your son's tuition based on luck too?" Jin Ge asked with a crooked grin. "My mom also taught me that debts must be paid. If people aren't reasonable, well… then we teach them with fists."
He snapped his fingers. Three thugs closed in.
"Brother Jin! This is all I've got." Yan Wenbin fumbled through his pockets, pulling out crumpled bills—barely enough for a decent dinner.
Jin Ge glanced at the pathetic bundle and sneered. "Not even three thousand? You owe me 150,000. That's not even two percent. You think I'm a joke?"
"I swear, I was going to win it back tonight…"
"You can't pay? Then we'll be uncivilized for a bit." Jin Ge took a long drag from his cigarette and flicked the ash to the ground. "Don't hit the face or break the feet—I need him to walk and work. Just enough to make sure he remembers his manners."
Before he could plead again, a boot slammed into Yan Wenbin's gut. He doubled over, gasping. The alley echoed with the dull thuds of fists and feet.
Two minutes later, the beatdown stopped.
"Seven days," Jin Ge said, squatting beside the trembling man. "If I don't get my money, next time we go for your hands, maybe even organs. And if you think running will save you… remember, you've got family."
He gave Yan Wenbin a light slap on the cheek and stood up.
"The three thousand? Consider that the price of my reason today. Let's go."
As Jin Ge and his goons disappeared into the shadows, a man and woman emerged from the alley across the street. They followed the limping Yan Wenbin in silence, then called out.
"Yan Wenbin."
He froze in place. "Brother Jin, I swear I'll—"
"We're not here for money," said the masked man coolly.
Yan Wenbin squinted. Both strangers wore masks and dark clothes. His anger flared. "Then what the hell do you want? Here to scare me too?!"
"Quite the opposite." The man unzipped his bag and dropped it at Yan Wenbin's feet.
Inside: a stack of red banknotes—thick, fresh, and real.
"There's one million yuan in there," the masked man said. "Help us with one thing, and you'll get four million total."
Yan Wenbin's breath caught.
"Four million?" His voice trembled, greed blooming in his eyes.
"Think about it. With your current salary, how long would it take you to earn that?" the man continued. "And we're only asking for one job."
"What job?" Yan Wenbin asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
The man grinned. "Start a fire."
Yan Wenbin's heart skipped. "You… you're targeting the Marching Ant Company?"
"You catch on fast," the man said. "That's why we chose you—you're not stupid."
"But the factory has AI surveillance. If I torch anything there, I'll be caught by a dozen cameras."
"Who said anything about the factory?" the man replied calmly. "We want the staff dormitories."
Yan Wenbin went stiff. That wasn't arson—that was attempted murder.
"I— I can't. People live there—"
"Scared?" the man interrupted. "No guts, no glory. The company makes billions, and what do you get? Nothing. You're disposable. Pitiful."
As he crouched to collect the money again, Yan Wenbin's gaze followed the cash, panic and desire fighting inside him.
"Wait." His voice cracked. "If I do it… really, four million?"
"Yes," the man said. "You'll get the rest afterward. But you get nothing if you back out."
"I want the full amount first. Cash."
The man laughed. "Do you see CEOs paying staff before the job is done? What if you take the money and disappear?"
"And what if you don't pay after it's done?" Yan Wenbin shot back.
"If there's no trust, there's no deal. Goodbye."
"Wait!"
Yan Wenbin's knuckles whitened. In a week, he was dead anyway—Jin Ge would make sure of that. At least this was a chance.
"I'll do it," he said hoarsely. "Just… don't forget the rest."
"Good choice." The man gave a subtle nod. "We'll be watching. Don't try anything stupid, or you'll find out how serious this is. We know your daughter goes to Third Elementary School in Binhai."
He tossed the money bag to Yan Wenbin and walked away.
Yan Wenbin watched them disappear into the night. His hands clutched the cash. His breath came fast. He knew he'd just stepped into a very deep pit.
And yet, all he could see… was red.
Inside a black SUV parked nearby, Ruth stared through the tinted window at the retreating figure of Yan Wenbin.
"You're not worried he might betray us?" she asked.
"Credit?" the young man scoffed, lighting a cigarette. "That kind of man has only one god—money. He's already sold his soul. His greed will keep him loyal, at least for this job."
"And afterward?"
"There won't be a next time," the man said, exhaling smoke. "We never intended to pay the rest. Let's finalize the plan. We've only got one shot at this."
The SUV pulled away, vanishing into the darkness—leaving behind a man on the edge of ruin, clutching a bag of cash and teetering between desperation and destruction.