Chapter 5: Veiled Scorn and the Unmasking
Bai Shanshan's initial sense of relief upon ascertaining Gu Chen's unassuming occupation had now curdled into a renewed and palpable suspicion as he proffered his gift. Her nails, lacquered a deep, rich crimson, drummed restlessly against the side of the celadon teacup. Her patrician nostrils flared in a histrionic display of contempt. "A timepiece that has endured for a decade, with a crystal marred by cracks?" Her laughter resounded, echoing like the shattering of exquisitely delicate porcelain. "How... intriguingly proletarian of you."
The banquet hall erupted into a cacophony of derisive laughter. A matron, swathed in sumptuous silk, whispered behind her fan, "That Brioni suit he dons must undoubtedly be rented—it is inconceivable that a security officer could possess the means to afford such opulent finery." Their scornful utterances solidified the unspoken hierarchical structure within the Bai family, where an individual's worth was meticulously measured by the carat weight of their jewels and the displacement of their vehicle engines.
Unaffected by the mockery that surrounded him, Gu Chen tenderly fastened the well-worn Patek Philippe watch around Bai Ruohan's wrist. The watch's aged patina seemed to weave a narrative of audacious midnight escapes and indissoluble blood-oath brotherhoods. Its cracked crystal served as a badge of honor, a poignant memento from the skirmish in the Kunlun Mountains that had irrevocably reshaped the underworld topography of three provinces. Bai Ruohan's fingers delicately caressed the timepiece, as if deciphering a clandestine message inscribed in braille. "It encapsulates a fragment of your very essence," she murmured, her smile radiating a brilliance akin to moonlight reflecting off a snow-laden expanse.
Across the table, crafted from peony wood, Zhou Jiang—Bai Shanshan's betrothed and an heir to newly acquired affluence, cleared his throat with an ostentatious display of self-importance. "When one contemplates true value, the Tiger Marshal is set to grace Jiangzhou this week," he proclaimed. His diamond cufflinks glinted in the light, reminiscent of the predatory eyes of a beast. "There is a gala event for the West City project... though obtaining an invitation proves to be... highly exclusive."
Patriarch Bai's ebony cane tapped in a rhythmic cadence against the marble floor. "The overlord who wields dominion over the shadows of three provinces? They say he moves with the stealth of phantom smoke across the battlefield."
Gu Chen's chopsticks came to an abrupt halt in mid-air. "The inauguration of West City?" he said, a wry chuckle escaping his lips. "It is rather curious that the mastermind behind this endeavour appears to be oblivious to all this fanfare."
Bai Shanshan's peal of laughter resounded with such force that it sent songbirds fleeing from the scholar trees in the courtyard. "You? The Tiger Marshal?" Her vermilion lips curled into a malevolent smile, reminiscent of the blade of a poisoned scimitar. "The security guard fancies himself a powerful warlord!"
The revelation hung suspended in the air, as fragile as a blade balanced upon a slender silk thread. Bai Ruohan's parents recoiled in abashed silence, while her uncle preened with pride. "Our Zhou Jiang has managed to secure two golden tickets! When we raise our glasses in the presence of the Marshal..."
"Forty-four," Gu Chen interjected softly, uttering the hallowed number—a code name from his tenure in the Special Forces. The engraved serial number on the watch caught the light: 44-181012.
In an instant, comprehension dawned upon Zhou Jiang's face, draining the colour from it until he was as pallid as rice paper. The digits on the watch corresponded precisely with those on the legendary invitation of the Tiger Marshal—an invitation that was exclusively distributed to the elders of the triads and the scions of the Politburo. His teacup slipped from his grasp and shattered upon the floorboards as fear supplanted his initial sense of shame.
"..."
Fractured Facades and Broken Bonds
The crystal chandeliers, suspended in regal grandeur above the ancestral hall, quivered almost imperceptibly, as if stirred by a malevolent essence that permeated the very atmosphere. Mocking laughter rent the air, its timbre as brittle and captivating as the shattering of the most exquisitely crafted celadon porcelain. Zhou Jiang's eyes raked over Gu Chen's form, and his sneer broadened into a furtive, vulpine grin. "The Tiger Marshal?" he drawled, his voice saturated with a disdain so profound it was like venom-laden honey. "You lack even the privilege of being permitted to buff his boots! When that formidable figure graces the inauguration of West City, I shall immortalize his majestic visage through my lens... as a means of instilling a lesson in you."
Gu Chen's fingers glided across his phone's screen with lethal dexterity, as if he were a master puppeteer deftly manipulating the threads of destiny. He conjured Mu Rong Wan'er's voice from the digital expanse. "Expunge two names from the roster," he commanded, his tone as frigid and unyielding as an arctic glacier, "Bai Shanshan. Zhou Jiang."
"At once, Marshal," came the reply, suffused with a palpable sense of contrition and haste. "Yang's meddling precipitated this quandary—"
"Rectify it. Without delay." The call severed with a finality that reverberated like a seismic shockwave, leaving the hall shrouded in a stunned and deathly stillness.
Zhou Jiang's initial chuckle morphed into a harsh, hyena-like cackle. "This charade has grown wearisome! Those seats were bestowed as a gesture of munificence by the municipal authorities. Do you genuinely believe you can feign the role of a warlord within this preposterous spectacle populated by imbeciles—"
"Cease this absurdity!" Bai Ruohan's father slammed his jade chopsticks onto the ornately embellished cloisonné table, his visage suffusing with a deep, purplish hue reminiscent of the tempestuous sky on the brink of a tempestuous squall. "Name your price for safeguarding my daughter's honour, and then take your leave."
The young heiress, with a complexion as immaculate and satin-smooth as alabaster, blushed a delicate rose-quartz tint. "Father! Grandfather made a sacrosanct vow—"
"Daughters of noble lineage do not barter away their virtue!" he thundered, causing the ancestral portraits suspended on their silk mounts to shudder violently, as if animated by spectral apparitions roused by his outburst.
Gu Chen rose languidly, his shadow unfurling across the vermilion-tiled floor like a pool of spilled ink. "Patriarch," he intoned softly, his voice deceptively serene yet laced with a venomous civility, "does your lineage spawn oathbreakers... or men of unwavering integrity?"
The elder's knuckles blanched as he clenched his dragon-headed cane with a vice-like grip. "Dr Gu, this humiliation—"
"—is merely the prologue," Gu Chen interjected, his smile as insidious as a sheathed dagger, seemingly innocuous yet concealing a latent peril. "Your household has overlooked a fundamental verity: even the most resilient jade shall shatter when struck at its fissured seams."
Beyond the hall, the cicadas' melodious chorus abruptly ceased as ominous, inky storm clouds billowed in, obscuring the moon entirely. The ancestral shrine, once redolent with the saccharine fragrance of osmanthus wine, now exuded a stench of the exposed and decaying falsehoods that had been laid bare.
Reckonings and Revelations
Gu Chen was on the cusp of departure when Bai Ruohan's determined and defiant voice sliced through the palpable tension. "Wait for me, Brother Gu!" The maiden, her hair as resplendent as polished jade, glided past the ancestral screens with an ethereal grace. Her billowing sleeves brushed ever so lightly against Zhou Jiang's smug visage, a fleeting yet telling encounter. Patriarch Bai's cane slipped from his weakened grasp, clattering noisily onto the floorboards. His aged countenance, etched with dismay, resembled an ancient parchment, bearing the marks of time and unexpected upheaval.
Zhou Jiang adjusted his immaculate Brioni lapels, exuding an oily confidence as he addressed the assembled family members. "Fear not, Grandfather. When I forge alliances with the Tiger Marshal at the West City gala..." His diamond cufflinks sparkled menacingly, like the malevolent eyes of a venomous serpent. "...our family shall rise above all the illustrious dynasties of Jiangzhou."
Bai Shanshan's father nodded vigorously, his jowls quivering in excitement. "A worthy son-in-law has the power to elevate an entire lineage! Not some..." His sneer lingered, directed towards the now-vacant doorway where Gu Chen had stood moments before.
The shrill ring of Zhou Jiang's phone shattered the false bravado that had filled the room. A voice boomed through the receiver, dripping with rage. "You imbecile! The Tiger Marshal has rescinded all the invitations!" Everyone in the room watched in stunned silence as Zhou Jiang's face drained of color, turning as pale as the somber silk used in funeral processions.
"Impossible!" Bai Shanshan's vermilion-painted nails dug into his arm, her disbelief palpable. "Those seats were assured! There's no way..."
Gu Chen's silhouette emerged once more in the doorway, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight. His chuckle was icier than the ancient jade that adorned the ancestral hall. "Cousin-by-proxy," he drawled languidly, "I am extending this act of mercy to you."
"Mercy?" Bai Shanshan's laughter was laced with a sickly sweetness, as treacherous as arsenic. "You? A lowly security guard?"
"Three fingers below your navel," Gu Chen murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Press firmly."
Her mocking laughter swiftly transformed into abject horror as her fingers, as if under a powerful enchantment, obediently followed his command. A stream of darkened blood erupted from her coral-hued lips, splattering across Zhou Jiang's pristine shirtfront. The metallic stench of internal decay filled the hall, a nauseating aroma that spoke not of fresh wounds but of a long-festering betrayal, like thick, tarry sludge.
Patriarch Bai's cane trembled in his hand as he pointed towards the pool of crimson on the floor. "The ancestral poison... how could this be...?"
Gu Chen's shadow stretched out ominously, like an ink-brush stroke portending doom. "Did you truly believe that three generations of Bai family physicians were incapable of diagnosing the curse that plagues your bloodline?" His gaze fixed firmly on the patriarch, unwavering and intense. "Or that I, the one who mended Bai Ruohan's meridians, would fail to sense the corruption that lies at the heart of your family?"
Bai Ruohan's fingers reached out and clasped Gu Chen's sleeve, not with the timid and trembling grip of a frightened child but with the resolute and unyielding hold of a phoenix rising from the ashes. Behind them, Bai Shanshan's gasping breaths and Zhou Jiang's pitiful whimpers formed a grotesque and discordant duet, echoing beneath the ancestral plaques that had been darkened over the decades by the smoke of medicinal incense.
The moon vanished behind the gathering storm clouds, casting the room into shadow. Gu Chen's final words fell like the blades of an executioner, cutting through the silence. "Your ledger of sins has just received its first reckoning."
Parting Shadows and Renewed Bonds
The instant Bai Shanshan applied pressure to her abdomen, a thick, viscous stream of inky, ebony-colored blood spewed from her lips, splattering across Zhou Jiang's spotlessly pristine shirtfront like splotches of corrupted and soiled ink. Pandemonium broke out within the ancestral hall as Patriarch Bai laboriously hoisted himself to his feet, his dragon-headed cane clattering noisily and raucously against the marble floor as he rushed forward in a state of frenzied agitation.
"Dr. Gu! I most earnestly implore a thousand pardons!" The elder's voice quivered with a palpable sense of abashed urgency, the earlier skepticism that had cast a shadow over his demeanor dissipating swiftly, much like mist vanishing before the first glimmering rays of the dawn sun. The revelation of Gu Chen's exceptional and extraordinary diagnostic prowess—his ability to detect Bai Shanshan's hidden and latent affliction merely through astute observation—now seared through his pride with a searing intensity, leaving it in utter ruins, comparable to silk being devoured by corrosive acid.
Outside, the warm, amber-hued glow of the setting twilight bathed and enveloped Gu Chen's silhouette as he scanned the QR code of a shared communal two-wheeler. His Ermenegildo Zegna suit, a sumptuously luxurious garment meticulously crafted from midnight-hued wool and valued in the high six-figure range, stood in such stark and almost ludicrous contrast to the battered, worn, and unpretentious frame of the bicycle, which served as a poignant symbol of proletarian simplicity and modesty. Bai Ruohan gracefully and elegantly mounted the bicycle behind him, her arms encircling his waist with a tenderness and delicacy reminiscent of the soft petals of a lotus flower.
"Is it imperative for you to take your leave in such a manner?" The patriarch gasped for breath, his voice strained and labored as he struggled and grappled to maintain his dignity amidst a surging wave of desperation.
Gu Chen's laughter carried with it the biting and piercing chill of a harsh winter. "Your Rolls-Royce exudes and emanates an overpowering stench of insincerity and duplicity. This humble and unassuming bicycle is far more appropriate and fitting for a security guard of my standing and status."
Bai Ruohan nestled her cheek gently against his shoulder blade, and her soft, gentle whisper wafted through the air, which was delicately perfumed with the sweet fragrance of jasmine: "Shall we journey together to the campus, brother? The night breeze seems to softly croon and sing of emancipation and liberation."
As they pedaled forward past the astonished pedestrians, the once-aristocratic figure, now transformed and transmuted into a cyclist, and his passenger, adorned and dressed like a delicate and beautiful bloom, painted and created a surreal and captivating scene. Her fingers tightened ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly. "You carry and bear your ire and indignation like a priceless piece of Ming dynasty porcelain," she murmured, "cracked and flawed yet still radiating and emanating a resplendent and luminous beauty."
"Ire?" Gu Chen's grip on the handlebars relaxed ever so slightly. "It is merely... a feeling and sentiment of disillusionment. Disillusionment that they failed to recognize and appreciate the genuine value of jade and instead mistook and confused it for ordinary and mundane gravel."
The neo-Gothic spires of the finance university loomed ever closer and more prominent in the distance. At that very instant, Bai Ruohan's warm breath tickled his ear as she softly said, "True value and worth do not require or necessitate a gilded and opulent carriage. You have revealed and shown to me a vast cosmos filled with stars and constellations that they will never have the privilege and opportunity to behold and witness."
In the gradually dimming light, their laughter intertwined and mingled with the chirping of the cicadas. The shoulders of the security guard, clad and attired in a Brioni suit, shook and quivered with mirth and amusement, and the eyes of the young heiress, who had been teetering precariously on the brink of decline, sparkled and glistened like fine porcelain illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. The rusty chain of the bicycle emitted a rhythmic and melodious metallic cadence, as if composing and creating an anthem that celebrated and extolled the embrace and acceptance of life's many paradoxes.
Veiled Promises and Binding Vows
"Brother, let's partake of some mala tang at the gateway of my school!" Bai Ruohan's laughter carolled like the melodious chiming of fine wind chimes as she guided Gu Chen's bicycle towards the lively and teeming eatery. The hushed whispers of the surrounding patrons eddied around them like a gentle zephyr. "The stunning belle from the Finance Department is having a repast with a mysterious gentleman!" Their eyes probed his Ermenegildo Zegna suit, a sartorial masterpiece worth a significant six-figure sum, and the stark disparity between the sumptuous attire and the unpretentious, dented bicycle, an emblem of proletarian simplicity, was truly arresting.
Gu Chen let out a soft, amused chuckle, his voice suffused with a subtle undertone of wry mirth. "Initiating our time together with some piquant delicacies by the roadside? Such an... out-of-the-ordinary way to commence this sojourn."
The young lady tilted her exquisitely refined, porcelain-like visage, and the soft, argent moonlight caught in the depths of her profound, obsidian eyes, imbuing them with an even more entrancing and alluring quality. "Should marriage contracts be the exclusive ties that bind our hearts?" She gestured towards the five age-old scrolls that rested beneath his fingers. The supple cowhide parchment of the scrolls seemed to murmur softly of the solemn vows pledged by their forebears, exuding an aura of historical import and solemnity. "Five betrothals? Then, even if I am the fifth in this series of betrothals, I shall be the first to manifest my steadfast devotion to you."
Her candid words pierced through his meticulously contrived veil of jocularity. "So, you're merely attracted by my comely features," he quipped, yet his throat constricted ever so slightly at the innocent and earnest look on her childlike visage, touched by her genuine sincerity.
"Comely features?" Her rosebud lips curved into a gentle, enchanting smile. "No—it is the profundity and enigma that lie concealed behind your eyes, much like a constellation replete with secrets. I shall scale the mountain of your mysteries, piece by piece, strand by strand." She mimicked the action of climbing, her playful gesture eliciting soft titters from the nearby students.
As the rich, intoxicating aroma of the chilli oil pervaded the night air, Gu Chen felt his defences gradually dissolving. This innocent young woman's purity stood in marked contrast to Ling Meixue's frosty and polished demeanour. One was like a soothing balm that could assuage the pang in his heart, while the other was like a keenly sharpened blade, each possessing its distinct charm. Yet, the weight of these five matrimonial destinies pressed down upon him heavily, with an almost tangible force.
"Promise me that you'll come back." Her pinky finger intertwined with his in a gesture of solemn ritual as the campus bells tolled, announcing the impending curfew.
"In this world"—his thumb tenderly caressed the soft, vulnerable hollow beneath her ear, a gesture laden with affection—"as long as I draw breath, no one shall be allowed to inflict any harm upon you."
The vow hung suspended in the air between them, as fragrant as the sweet blossoms of the osmanthus and as keen and unyielding as a bared blade. Somewhere within the cryptic script of those ancestral scrolls, the loom of destiny began its inexorable and deliberate weaving, gradually interweaving their fates.
The Anatomy of Cowardice
The young girl's blush deepened, taking on the rich hue of peonies as she gracefully rose on her satin-slippered toes. She then pressed a kiss as soft as a chrysanthemum petal upon his cheek. Like a sprightly sparrow that had just discovered a hidden source of sweet nectar, she flitted away beyond the campus gates. Her departure left Gu Chen there, lost in thought, contemplating the lingering warmth – not only the physical warmth on his skin but also the warmth that had blossomed in his chest.
The spicy broth of the mala tang, combined with the effects of the fermented hops from the beer he had consumed earlier, now worked together to urge him towards the faculty restrooms. But before he could find relief in the privacy of the porcelain fixtures, the pungent and unpleasant smell of fear cut through the air that was already thick with the scent of ammonia.
Three youths, their fingers stained yellow from nicotine, circled their victim menacingly. The target of their bullying was a trembling young man who was kneeling on the tiled floor, his body quivering with fear. "Where's the money you're supposed to give us?" The leader of the group snarled, his hair, the colour of goldenrod, catching the sickly glow of the fluorescent lights overhead. A sharp, backhanded blow landed on the kneeling youth's face, the sound echoing through the small restroom. "Those AJ sneakers of yours are just mocking our patience!" he added angrily.
Gu Chen's entrance into the restroom brought an abrupt halt to the scene, freezing the tableau as if it were a snapshot in time.
"You meddling fool!" the youth with yellow hair spat out, his words laced with venom. However, his eyes betrayed a primal recognition of the fact that he was facing someone who was a true apex predator in this situation. "This has nothing to do with a lowly security guard like you, you piece of gutter trash," he sneered.
The kneeling youth's gaze was filled with desperation, pleading for help like that of a wounded fawn.
"Pathetic," Gu Chen uttered, his voice dripping with disdain, and it seemed to crystallise the very air around them. "You're kneeling before these jackals? Even a rat, when cornered, will bare its teeth and fight," he said scornfully.
The yellow-haired youth's attempt to kick Gu Chen with his combat boot was swiftly intercepted. Gu Chen's hand shot out and caught the boot mid-air. In an instant, the momentum was reversed. With a forceful movement, Gu Chen slammed the youth's skull into the tiled floor, the impact making a sound as if porcelain was cracking. "They're just paper tigers," Gu Chen observed coolly, pressing his boot against the bully's windpipe. "They crumble as soon as they encounter real strength," he added.
Turning to the trembling victim, Gu Chen said, "Look and learn. Tyrants will bleed when they're challenged. You have to stand up for yourself."
Yet, even as Gu Chen began to step back, the group of bullies seemed to regain their bravado. "You think you can resist?" one of the henchmen sneered, and with that, he delivered a stinging slap to the face of the kneeling youth, reigniting the feelings of shame that the victim had been experiencing. "If you don't come up with the money by tomorrow, we'll violate the innocence of your sweetheart," he threatened menacingly.
Gu Chen's laughter rang out, carrying the cold edge of winter. "Behold the cruel joke of nature – some are like lambs that are content to stay in a slaughterhouse, accepting their fate without a fight," he said mockingly. His exit from the restroom left behind an echoing condemnation, not directed at the bullies, but rather at those who chose to remain in a state of perpetual victimhood, never finding the courage to fight back.
In the shadows of his thoughts, the kiss that Bai Ruohan had given him still lingered, its warmth burning like a small fire. Some souls, he mused to himself, had the power to ignite revolutions with just a few whispered words. Others, however, seemed to be destined to drown in their whimpers, too afraid to ever take a stand.
The Anatomy of Resistance and Systemic Oppression
The porcelain tiles of the restroom resonated with the raw, primal cries of pain as deep red streams of blood meandered down the battered earlobe of the bully. Gu Chen casually leaned against the urinal partitions, his gaze fixed intently on the transformation taking place before him – a remarkable shift from the prey being tormented to the prey turning into a fearsome predator. "When you offer an apology, it must be accompanied by true sincerity," he drawled slowly, his fingers rhythmically drumming out a solemn, almost funereal cadence on his folded arms, as if marking the downfall of the bully's dominance.
"Have mercy! Mercy from our ancestors!" The once menacing tormentor now grovelled on the ground, his mutilated ear throbbing painfully, its appearance reminiscent of rotting pomegranate flesh, a gruesome sight that testified to his defeat. In contrast, the victim, his teeth still firmly embedded in the bully's ear, wore a wild, feral grin, a clear sign of the liberation and newfound strength he was experiencing.
When the now-liberated boy finally released his bite, the group of three bullies scurried away like cockroaches scuttling from the harsh light of day, their bravado completely shattered. Gu Chen's lips curled into a cold, wintry smile, a sign of his approval. "Take a good look – tyrants, no matter how imposing they seem, will crumble to dust the moment they encounter the fierce resistance of those they have oppressed," he said, his voice carrying a tone of quiet satisfaction.
The bloodied young man stared after the departing figure of his liberator, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and curiosity. "Who...?" he murmured, the question hanging in the air like a faint echo.
But the question was soon lost in the pungent, ammonia-tinged air of the restroom. Gu Chen's shadow stretched out long across the impersonal, institutional walls of the restroom, his silhouette a complex blend – part guardian, a figure of strength and protection, and part demon, a reminder of the darker aspects of human nature. It was also a spectral presence that served as a poignant reminder of the identities that could be shed and transformed, much like a serpent shedding its old skin.
——
Meanwhile, in the security office of the Junli Group:
"Brother Chen's special status as the president's husband means that he's not bound by the constraints of a regular work schedule," Wang Hu sneered, his eyes glinting with a mix of envy and respect as he polished his nightstick with a meticulous, almost sacramental, fervour. The young rookie guard nodded in agreement, completely unaware of the danger that was about to slither into their midst, much like a viper stealthily approaching its prey.
The sharp clicking sound of Liu Yang's patent leather shoes announced his arrival even before his greasy, smarmy grin came into view. "Due to the fluctuations in the current situation, there is a need for some... adjustments," he said smoothly, his voice oozing with insincerity. His perfectly manicured finger tapped on the newly revised protection fee chart, indicating the additional ¥200 monthly surcharge that he was imposing, all to cover his gambling debts.
Wang Hu's voice dropped to a frigid, subzero tone, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Your uncontrollable addiction to gambling and the resulting debts will not be allowed to bleed us dry of our hard-earned wages," he said firmly. In response, the security team quickly formed a tight phalanx formation, their batons clicking in unison, a clear and menacing warning to Liu Yang of their readiness to resist his extortion.
From the dimly lit, shadowy corridors outside, the sound of approaching footsteps could be heard, each step carrying with it a sense of impending reckoning. The person approaching was neither just a corporate figure due to his connection with the president nor a passive victim willing to submit to oppression. Instead, it was someone far more formidable and dangerous, a force that could potentially change the balance of power in this tense situation.
Clash of Authority in the Security Nexus
Liu Yang's visage twisted into a mask of incredulity. The sheer impudence of these subordinates, daring to speak to him with such blatant insolence!
"Is this an act of insurrection?" he hissed menacingly, jabbing a nicotine-stained digit towards the security guards. "With a single word from me, your attendance compliance evaluations will be rendered invalid! The initial five-hundred-yuan deductions per person will seem trivial compared to the thousand-yuan penalties I'm prepared to impose!"
The threat hung heavy in the air, like the blade of a guillotine poised to strike. For years, Liu had been syphoning away tens of thousands of yuan from his dual domains of the security and logistics departments, building a parasitic empire that thrived on the guards' forced silence. This year, his audacious move of increasing the monthly "contribution" from three hundred to five hundred yuan had been his most brazen act yet, until this very moment.
Wang Hu stepped forward, his voice quivering with barely suppressed indignation. "After your exorbitant levies, our meagre wages can barely meet the needs of our families! Must we reduce ourselves to penury just to fund your vices?"
A scornful snort escaped Liu's lips. "Go ahead and complain to the CEO if you have the courage. By the time your grievances make their way up the corporate hierarchy..." He made a theatrical gesture of tearing up paperwork. "...dismissal notices will fall faster than autumn leaves in a tempest."
The security guards exchanged defeated glances with one another. Their salaries, a mere 4,000 yuan after deductions, were already stretched thin, with a significant portion consumed by their expenditures on cigarettes and liquor. This left their households scraping by on the barest of scraps. Yet, the rigid corporate hierarchy made any act of rebellion tantamount to professional suicide.
"All this commotion over such trifling matters."
All heads swivelled towards the doorway, where Gu Chen emerged, his elegant Ermenegildo Zegna suit standing in stark contrast to the sterile, fluorescent-lit environment of the security room. Wang Hu scurried forward, offering a lit cigarette with a reverence that bordered on the ceremonial.
"Director Liu mistakes intimidation for effective governance," Gu Chen remarked coolly, exhaling a thick plume of smoke that partially obscured his icy smile. "The CEO's spouse doesn't need to rely on attendance ledgers to recognise an act of extortion when it's right in front of him."
Liu's laughter rang out, but it lacked any real mirth, sounding hollow and forced. "A spouse? A lowly security guard pretending to be a prince consort? Your little farce..."
"Overpowering someone of your calibre hardly requires me to engage in a formal confrontation," Gu Chen adjusted his cufflinks with an air of lethal nonchalance. "Shall we discuss how your so-called 'protection levies' flagrantly violate Article 384 of the Criminal Law? Or perhaps we should talk about your creative manipulation of social security and housing fund contributions?"
The colour drained from Liu's face in an instant. "You wouldn't dare..."
"Leave this place." The command dropped like a resounding gavel. "If you linger, the next people you'll have to deal with will be judicial investigators."
As Liu scurried away in defeat, the security guards erupted into a chorus of cathartic cheers. Wang Hu grasped Gu Chen's arm with an almost religious fervour. "You are the very embodiment of greatness! The reign of that petty extortionist is..."
"Merely put on hold, not truly over." Gu Chen extinguished his cigarette with the precision of a skilled surgeon. "Stay vigilant, my brothers. Snakes strike with the greatest ferocity when they feel cornered and desperate."
Unseen in her opulent penthouse office, Ling Meixue closely monitored the security feeds. Her manicured nail, coated in a glossy lacquer, traced the outline of Gu Chen's pixelated figure as he defied Liu. A faint smile, as rare as a winter orchid blooming in the cold, flitted across her lips. The delicate balance of the corporate chessboard had just shifted.
Meanwhile, Liu Yang stormed into the Human Resources department, his demands for disciplinary action against the guards met with a perplexing situation. The attendance records that he needed mysteriously vanished into thin air. It seemed that the entire corporate machinery had suddenly developed a case of selective amnesia when it came to his once-dominant fiefdom.
To be continuous…