Shenzhen Bay No. 1, Peony Hall.

The private room was huge.

A round table that could seat twenty people — only four were sitting.

Han Jiang sat at the head. He warmed a pot of Pu'er and poured himself a cup.

Next to him sat a young man in a white suit — Young Master Zhao.

The Zhao family did export trade. They owned several buildings in Nanshan. One of Shenzhen's top-tier rich second-gen.

Across from them sat two people.

A real estate developer in his fifties, surnamed Huang.

And a man in a gray shirt — Chen Feng.

When Young Master Zhao saw Chen Feng walk in, he laughed.

"This is the friend you were talking about?"

He looked Chen Feng up and down.

"Don't recognize the face. Brother Han — what circle is he from?"

Han Jiang didn't answer. He poured Chen Feng a cup of tea.

"Try it. Ten-year Pu'er."

Chen Feng picked up the cup. Smelled it. Didn't drink.

"Good tea."

"But you didn't call me here for tea."

Han Jiang smiled.

"You — you don't beat around the bush."

"I don't."

Chen Feng set down the cup.

"Those seventeen gambling parlors under Dingsheng. They're yours."

"Yes."

"You had Ma San set up Su Chengzhi to bait me out."

"Yes."

"The man behind you is Ruan Wenfeng."

Han Jiang's smile disappeared.

He was quiet for a few seconds.

"You know more than I thought."

"I know more than you think."

Chen Feng leaned back in his chair.

"Three years ago, when Ruan Wenfeng escaped from Southeast Asia, he went to Cambodia. Changed his name. Changed his identity. But there was one thing he couldn't change —"

He paused.

"— the life he owes me."

The room went silent.

Young Master Zhao looked at Han Jiang, then at Chen Feng. Couldn't figure out what was going on.

"Wait... what are you two talking about?"

No one answered him.

Han Jiang picked up his tea. Took a sip.

"Ruan Wenfeng is my partner."

"I know."

"He came to me three months ago. Told me a story. Said someone hunted him in Southeast Asia. Nearly killed him. Said that man is in Shenzhen now, living under a fake name."

"And then?"

"And then he said — find this man for me, and I'll give you a hundred million."

Chen Feng didn't speak.

"I don't know you, Chen Feng. And I don't care what grudge you have with Ruan Wenfeng."

Han Jiang set down his cup.

"But a hundred million — that number is worth my time."

"So you used the Su family."

"Right. I knew you married into the Su family. If I touched the Su family, you'd come out."

Han Jiang leaned back.

"Now you're out. So let's make a deal —"

"No."

Chen Feng cut him off.

"No deals."

"Then why are you here?"

"I'm here to tell you three things."

Chen Feng held up three fingers.

"One. You're not getting that hundred million from Ruan Wenfeng. Because he never planned to pay it. His Cambodian accounts were frozen three days ago."

Han Jiang's brow twitched.

"Two. Those seventeen parlors of yours — starting at eight tonight, they don't belong to Han anymore."

"What did you say?"

Chen Feng ignored him. He held up a third finger.

"Three. Young Master Zhao's father, Boss Huang's real estate company, and your three luxury apartments in Shenzhen — I'm holding all the deed papers."

He put his phone on the table.

The screen showed a file list.

Han Jiang's face finally changed.

"You —"

"I did my homework before I came."

Chen Feng stood up.

"Han Jiang. You're not my target. Ruan Wenfeng is."

"If you hadn't touched the Su family, I wouldn't have touched you."

"But you touched them."

He picked up his teacup and poured the tea into a potted plant nearby.

"That cup of tea was the last bit of face I was willing to give you."

He turned and walked out.

"Stop right there!"

Young Master Zhao slammed the table and stood up.

"The hell do you think you are?! Who do you think you're showing off to?!"

Chen Feng stopped.

Didn't turn around.

"Young Master Zhao. Your father told you to come tonight to negotiate Boss Huang's land deal."

"None of your damn business!"

"That deal. It's not happening."

Chen Feng turned his head and looked at Boss Huang.

Boss Huang sat in his seat, forehead soaked with sweat.

"Boss Huang. What do you say?"

Boss Huang swallowed.

"No... no deal."

"Boss Huang?!"

Young Master Zhao's eyes went wide.

"Are you out of your mind?!"

"That land... I'm not selling that land."

Boss Huang stood up and bowed to Chen Feng.

"Mr. Chen. My apologies for today."

Then he walked out of the room fast.

Three people left in the room.

Han Jiang sat where he was. Didn't move.

Young Master Zhao was on his feet, his face cycling between white and red.

Chen Feng reached the door.

"Han Jiang. Go back and tell Ruan Wenfeng —"

"He doesn't need to come find me."

"I'll find him."

The door closed.

---

In the hallway, Chen Feng's phone buzzed.

A message from Old Zhou:

"All seventeen parlors secured. Zero casualties."

Chen Feng glanced at it.

Deleted it.

---

As he walked out of Shenzhen Bay No. 1, a sea breeze hit him in the face.

He stood at the entrance and lit a cigarette.

Three years since he'd last smoked.

Tonight was an exception.

---

His phone buzzed again.

This time it was Su Wan.

A WeChat message. Just two words:

"Where are you."

Chen Feng stared at those words for a while.

Then he put out the cigarette.

Didn't reply.

---

Back in the private room, Young Master Zhao kicked over a chair.

"Brother Han — who the hell is that guy?!"

Han Jiang didn't answer.

He picked up his phone and dialed an international number.

It rang for a long time.

No one picked up.

He hung up.

Dialed again.

Still no answer.

Han Jiang slowly put down the phone.

Twelve years in this business. He'd never seen an opponent take out seventeen parlors in one night.

And not hurt a single person.

This man was no ordinary player.

No — not just that.

This man was someone you didn't mess with.

He looked at his phone again.

Still no answer from Ruan Wenfeng.

For the first time, he regretted taking this job.

---

Outside, Shenzhen Bay's night had fallen completely.

The lights shattered on the surface of the water like a handful of gold leaf scattered.

Han Jiang suddenly felt the tea at this dinner — a little cold.

Twelve years in this business. He'd seen plenty of ruthless players.

But Chen Feng — a man who didn't slam tables, didn't pull weapons, just sat down and told you three things, and flipped your whole hand — he'd never seen anyone like that.

And those seventeen parlors.

In one night.

Zero casualties.

He couldn't think of anyone in Shenzhen who could pull that off.

---

At the same time.

The Su family living room.

Su Wan sat on the sofa. Her phone screen was lit.

The message — "Where are you" — showed as read.

No reply.

She put her phone on the coffee table.

On the table sat the porcelain shard with the small fish.

She stared at it for a long time.

Liu Cuilan walked out of the kitchen with a bowl of noodles.

"Eat something."

"Not hungry."

"You haven't eaten all day —"

"Mom."

Su Wan looked up.

"He's not coming back."

Liu Cuilan put the noodles on the table. Said nothing.

After a moment.

"...Then forget it."

"What?"

"I said, forget it."

Liu Cuilan sat down. For once, her voice wasn't loud.

"If he's gone, he's gone. It's not like we can't get by."

"You've always been so strong-willed —"

Su Wan smiled.

It wasn't a happy smile.

"Strong-willed?"

"You think I spent three years married to a useless man?"

"— I spent three years stepping on gold, thinking it was stone."

Liu Cuilan opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

The living room was quiet.

The small fish on the porcelain shard glowed faintly blue under the light.

Like it was mocking something.

---

Liu Cuilan carried the noodles back to the kitchen and dumped them all out.

She stood at the sink, watching the water wash the noodles down the drain.

She suddenly remembered the day Chen Feng first arrived three years ago —

Carrying a beat-up backpack. Standing at the door. Calling her "Auntie."

She hadn't answered.

Three years. She'd never answered once.

She threw the dishrag into the sink. Dried her hands.

The kitchen had nothing left but the sound of the faucet dripping.

Drip. Drip.

Like someone saying they were sorry.

She turned off the faucet.

Dried her hands.

When she walked back into the living room, Su Wan was still on the sofa.

Neither of them spoke.

Just the clock on the wall ticking.

Tick. Tick.

Same rhythm as the kitchen faucet.

The house tonight — it felt like someone was missing.

And like nothing was missing at all.

But Su Wan knew exactly what was missing.

She sat on the sofa, staring at the porcelain shard on the table.

The fish was still there.

The bowl was gone.

The man was gone.

She picked up the shard. Turned it under the light.

The blue fish gave off a faint glow.

Like it was still swimming in water.

She put the shard down.

Didn't pick it up again.

Turned off the light.

Laid down.

No words that night.

End of Chapter 3: Who's Begging Who