Women often chat while getting their nails done, and this young woman was no exception. She started talking about her bag, then her car, and then casually noticed Xie Xiaoli's purse, naturally complimenting it.
Xie Xiaoli's vanity was satisfied, and she gradually became more friendly.
But when the woman asked what car she drove, Xie Xiaoli hesitated, glancing at her small electric scooter parked not far away. Luckily, her friend quickly changed the subject, and the woman didn’t press further.
Later, when the woman effortlessly paid for a membership and drove off in her sports car, Xie Xiaoli’s friend watched the taillights fade and sighed, "Must be nice to be rich, right, Xiaoli?" It was just an innocent remark, but Xie Xiaoli took it as a veiled jab.
"Who doesn’t have money?" she snapped, standing up and storming off, leaving her friend bewildered.
That evening, Xie Xiaoli spotted a flyer plastered on her apartment door. The building was always littered with ads—no one ever bothered to remove them. She barely glanced at it until one particular ad caught her eye:
"Ultra-low interest! Borrow big with just 20 yuan a day! Start living luxuriously today!" Below it was a photo of a sleek car.
Xie Xiaoli stared, already picturing herself behind the wheel. But she shook her head and went inside. Unbeknownst to her, Fang Zhiyi across the hall watched everything. He murmured into his phone, "Keep going. Do it right, and there’s a bonus."
A cheerful female voice replied, "Thanks, Brother Fang!"
She didn’t understand why her new boss had assigned such a strange task—just drive a repossessed car, carry a designer bag, and get her nails done. But if it was this easy to make money, only a fool would say no.
The next day, Xie Xiaoli ran into the woman again at the salon. She claimed she’d grown tired of yesterday’s nail art and wanted a new design. Xie Xiaoli’s friend gushed over her extravagance, though inwardly she welcomed such high-spending clients.
Strangely, the woman now sported the same hairstyle and bag as Xie Xiaoli.
"Wow, what a coincidence! Even your bags match!" the friend remarked with a laugh.
The woman smiled, eyeing Xie Xiaoli’s purse with a slight squint. Xie Xiaoli tensed—her bag was a knockoff. Had this wealthy woman noticed? She subtly slid it under the table.
"Your skin looks great," the woman said. "Where do you get your treatments?"
Xie Xiaoli hesitated before naming her usual salon. She might not be rich, but she invested in skincare.
The woman frowned. "Never heard of it. I go to the one downtown. Wanna join me next time?"
Xie Xiaoli knew that place was exorbitant but forced a smile. "Sure."
Meanwhile, Fang Zhiyi set his plan into motion. He summoned his lackeys and picked the most meek-looking one, Xiao Hua, whispering instructions.
Though confused, Xiao Hua nodded eagerly. For days afterward, he rode a rundown electric scooter around the neighborhood.
Finally, Old Man Gao and Old Lady Gao took the bait. As Xiao Hua wobbled along, a sudden shriek made him brake hard. He turned to see Old Lady Gao clutching her leg on the ground.
Old Man Gao grabbed him. "You reckless idiot! You hit my wife!"
A crowd gathered. Fang Zhiyi "happened" to pass by and pushed through. "What’s going on? An accident?"
Old Man Gao seized the opportunity. "Pay up! My wife’s hurt! What if she’s seriously injured?"
Fang Zhiyi crouched beside Old Lady Gao, grinning. "How much?"
Recognizing him, Old Man Gao hesitated—rumor had it Fang Zhiyi had even dared to cross the Wang family. But glancing at the flustered Xiao Hua, he figured Fang Zhiyi was on his side.
"Five thousand! Not a cent less!"
Fang Zhiyi nodded solemnly. "Not a cent less!" He shot Xiao Hua a look.
Xiao Hua stammered, "Shouldn’t we take her to the hospital first?"
Old Man Gao refused—he knew his wife was fine. "Nice try! Hand over the cash!"
The crowd murmured.
Xiao Hua flushed. "I don’t have it on me... I’ll get an advance from my boss?"
Old Man Gao softened slightly. "No tricks. Everyone’s watching."
"Then come with me?" Xiao Hua suggested.
After a glance at his still-groaning wife, Old Man Gao agreed. He climbed onto the scooter, barking at Fang Zhiyi, "Take my wife home."
Fang Zhiyi said nothing. As they left, he turned to Old Lady Gao. "Up you get, auntie. The ground’s cold."
Her beady eyes darted before she snorted and slowly sat up.
The crowd’s murmurs grew louder.
Fang Zhiyi feigned concern. "Oh right, your leg’s hurt, isn’t it?" Trapped, Old Lady Gao nodded and flopped back down.
"Don’t know where you live, and I’m afraid to move you. How about I call a cab?" With that, he slipped away, leaving her stranded.
Under the crowd’s scrutiny, Old Lady Gao could only clutch her leg and play dead.
Meanwhile, Xiao Hua led Old Man Gao through winding alleys to a shabby house. He slid open the door and stepped inside. Old Man Gao followed, wary of escape.
He instantly regretted it.
The room housed a shrine, a machete on the desk, and half a dozen tattooed thugs.
A bespectacled man asked, "Xiao Hua, who’s this?"
Xiao Hua grinned innocently. "Says I hit his wife with my scooter. Wants five grand."
A young man polishing a cleaver slowly turned. "How much?"
Old Man Gao’s bravado vanished. No audience, no cameras. His voice shrank. "Just... a little something. It was an accident."