Xie Xiaoli finally got herself a luxury car. The loan company had kindly offered a "rent-to-own" scheme, which meant she only had to pay a few dozen yuan a day to drive it. The car not only made her feel superior in front of her business partner but also made her husband seem unworthy of her.
Ads from Xing'an Loans kept popping up on her feed every few days—rent-to-own for bags, watches, even vacations. Xie Xiaoli was completely swept up in the fantasy. Dressed in designer clothes and cruising in her luxury car, she looked at her nail salon and thought, How could someone of my status still be stuck here? It was ridiculous that she was still painting nails for "poor girls." She grew increasingly convinced her partner was just jealous of her. Eventually, she handed the salon over to that friend.
"Tired? Life shouldn’t just be about work. You need poetry and adventure—run free!" The toxic positivity of Xing'an’s slogans filled her mind, though unfortunately, the woman who drove the sports car never returned.
Xie Xiaoli was determined to live the high life. She remembered hearing that woman mention a friend who, just by being fashionable and pretty, had caught the eye of a wealthy man and climbed the social ladder. Glancing at her husband, absorbed in his phone, she felt another surge of dissatisfaction. I want a divorce!
Luo Chenghui had secretly taken out a loan too. He’d done the math—his income could handle it, and the interest rates weren’t bad. Seeing Xie Xiaoli’s new car, he couldn’t resist and got one himself. But when he learned she’d quit her job, he started calculating. He didn’t want to end up paying her debts. He was still young, had a nice car now—maybe divorcing her would land him someone better.
They both filed for divorce at the same time, but the process stalled over "assets"—though all they had was debt, they still couldn’t agree on how to split it. The two fell into a cold war.
Fang Zhiyi walked into the office, and everyone stood to greet him. They admired their young boss—in just a short time, he’d untangled the chaotic accounts and even improved their pay.
"Brother Fang, that student we rejected before is back. Maybe we should take the deal? If we don’t, another company will," a bare-faced girl said, handing him a file.
Fang Zhiyi took it and tossed it straight into the trash. "No. How many times do I have to say it? To stay compliant, we have to let go of some business. You all want to end up in jail?"
The girl forced an awkward laugh. "Also… that couple’s case—you handed it to Xing'an. Won’t the higher-ups have a problem with that?"
Fang Zhiyi raised an eyebrow. "If the sky falls, I’ll hold it up. Just focus on your work."
She nodded. Dressed in a plain white T-shirt and jeans, no one would guess she was the one who drove a sports car to get her nails done.
"Little Liu, must be nice being rich, huh?" a young man teased.
Little Liu shook her head. "Exhausting. You have to act a certain way all the time. My hair alone takes hours. Nah, I’m just meant to be poor."
"Come on, you got bonuses, right?"
"Don’t spread rumors. Those came from Brother Fang’s own pocket."
The young man sighed, staring at the ceiling. "Weirdly, before, doing business always felt like someone was watching. Now, after Brother Fang’s changes, I feel way more confident."
A bespectacled man glanced at Fang Zhiyi, who was focused on his computer, and chimed in, "After Dong got locked up, I almost quit. This line of work is too risky. But now… maybe it’s worth sticking around."
Fang Zhiyi ignored their chatter. Right now, he was crafting an ad for Xing'an Loans—and targeting Xie Xiaoli and her husband. (Xing'an Loans: Thanks for the referral, kind stranger!)
It was Fang Zhiyi’s first time attending a management meeting organized by Eldest Son. In the conference room of a high-end hotel, seven or eight people sat around the table, each looking like a hardened veteran.
When Fang Zhiyi reported his numbers, the other managers scoffed.
Eldest Son frowned. "Zhiyi, your predecessor, A Dong, used to bring in triple what you’re delivering. Care to explain?"
Fang Zhiyi remained calm. "Risk management." He laid out his philosophy—lending wasn’t sustainable, especially after A Dong’s arrest. He’d pivoted to strictly legal operations.
"I heard you’re even sending business to rival companies?" a bald man mocked.
Fang Zhiyi met his gaze. "Ever heard of ‘killing with a borrowed knife’?"
The bald man’s face darkened, but before he could retort, Eldest Son cut in. "Good. Very good." He studied Fang Zhiyi with approval. Who knew A Dong had such a sharp subordinate? The real problem was the old-timers resisting change.
Fang Zhiyi stayed silent. He knew exactly what Eldest Son was thinking—though the original story barely mentioned him, it was clear he wanted to launder his operations under a legal facade. Fang Zhiyi’s approach played right into that.
Sure enough, when the police raided their loan company, every record was clean. Of course, Fang Zhiyi had been tipped off beforehand.
At the next meeting, Fang Zhiyi slammed the table, accusing someone of snitching. All eyes turned to the bald man—A Dong’s sworn brother.
The bald man stormed out, ignoring even Eldest Son. Watching the boss’s expression, Fang Zhiyi knew the trap was set.
But before he could twist the knife further, Little Hei urgently called him back—Wang Xiaoqiang had been eyeing Li Tiantian with ill intent.
Fang Zhiyi rushed home just in time to see a horrifying scene: Wang Xiaoqiang half-dragging, half-carrying Tiantian toward the sixth-floor stairwell window of their old apartment building—a large, glassless opening.
"You little bastard! Don’t you dare!" Fang Zhiyi roared, pulling out his phone to record.
Wang Xiaoqiang froze at the sound. When he spotted Fang Zhiyi, fear flooded him. As a hyper-aggressive type, he shouldn’t have been scared—yet his limbs turned to jelly under Fang Zhiyi’s glare.
The commotion drew neighbors, who gasped at the sight of Wang Xiaoqiang hesitating with Tiantian at the window’s edge.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Fang Zhiyi shouted, spotting Father Li sprinting upstairs.
Wang Xiaoqiang panted. "She’s just a worthless girl—what’s the big deal?"
As soon as these words were spoken, everyone was stunned.
Fang Zhiyi saw Wang Xiaoqiang's parents step out as well, but they only looked up in terror without making a move. Enraged, he strode forward and kicked Wang Xiaoqiang's father in the back of the knee, sending him crashing to the ground.
nd fell into a coma while saving his younger sister from an out-of-control car. He became a vegetable. No one knew that his consciousness had crossed into a world of cultivation. Over the course of sixty years, he began as the lowest kind of mine slave, struggling to survive amid mountains of corpses and seas of blood. By sheer chance, he eventually obtained the complete memories of a fallen Immortal King. Alchemy, medicine, formations, feng shui, physiognomy, artifact forging… Every great inheritance of the cultivation world was now his. But when he opened his eyes again, he discovered that ten full years had passed in the modern world. To pay for his treatment, his father had sold the family’s shop and house, leaving himself covered in lasting injuries and illness. His mother had cared for him day and night, and more than half of her hair had already turned white. His younger sister, who had been only fifteen back then, was now twenty-five. To help repay the family’s debts, she had been forced to lower her head and put on a smiling face in places of glittering lights and endless revelry. Only then did Chen Xuan understand that what he had lost was not merely ten years. He had lost the life his entire family was meant to have. The good news was that he had brought back the memories of an Immortal King’s entire lifetime. The bad news was that his soul had returned alone—his cultivation had not come with him. Spiritual energy was scarce, resources were depleted, and the modern world still had firearms, surveillance, capital, and laws. If he wanted to protect his family, break free from everyone’s control, and become truly invincible beneath the heavens, he would have to start all over again.
s the Eldest Princess, renowned for her cold and aloof detachment, became the most docile of lambs, obeying his every command without question. But when the final move was played on the chessboard, as Gu Chenghan seized everything and ascended on the verge of apotheosis, that very Princess suddenly embraced him from behind, her tone carrying a dependence never heard before: "Wait... you haven't yet... commanded me to love you forever." Gu Chenghan froze abruptly. She... hadn't been hypnotized?! ... [The Eldest Princess's Diary] [When my soul was extracted, becoming the sole spectator outside my own shell] [At first, there was overwhelming fury, until I saw] [How he used my sword to effortlessly shatter my inescapable doom] [How he wielded my authority to eradicate fatal conspiracies I had never even detected] [Like a deity, he rescued me from the deep mire I was trapped in] [If not for those annoying vixens, he and I would be a match made in heaven] [I think I am ill, gravely ill] [My deity should belong to me alone] ... "Hypnosis? Oh, it succeeded, my dear Master." "Only this time, it's my turn to hypnotize you."
nto another world, I bought a slave for the first time, never expecting the silver wolf girl to be so cute... Lin Feng: I know it's cold, but you don't have to sneak into my bed! Yuna: Just sharing body warmth, if you dare do anything naughty, I'll definitely...
uld barely embark on the path to immortality. Just as he was on the verge of death, his golden finger awakened. No matter whether it was poison, drained blood and vital energy, diminished lifespan, or any other physical debuff caused by paying a price—once midnight passed, everything would be refreshed. From then on, whenever someone asked what kind of person Chu Ran was, the answer was simple: Forbidden arts that other cultivators dared not learn? Chu Ran would learn them. Prices that even demonic cultivators dared not pay? Chu Ran would pay them. Lifespan that even righteous cultivators dared not burn? Chu Ran would burn it. All the blood essence in his body? Take it. Want both his hands and feet? He would cut them off and send them to you. You say he’s finished? He wasn’t built to sit idle. You think he’s gone mad? No—he was simply waiting for midnight. From that day onward, Chu Ran would respect neither Heaven nor Earth, bow to neither gods nor ghosts. He had only one wish: For midnight to arrive a little sooner.
