Chapter 22: The Boy Who Lost His Life

“Snap!”

The sharp crack of a slap rang out clearly amid the chaotic arcade, leaving a crimson palm print on Fatty’s chubby face, swelling visibly before their eyes.

“Know who I am? If you don’t, go ask Zhao Jianlong who Jiang Yuyue is.”

Jiang Yuyue’s face was as cold as frost, her tone calm, yet chilling enough to make one shiver.

The slap sent golden stars dancing before Fatty’s eyes; fury surged instantly. In Jiangzhou, I’m Fatty—someone people know. Who the hell dares slap my face, and a woman at that?

But hearing Zhao Jianlong’s name, his rage vanished. He’d been blinded by lust, only seeing Jiang Yuyue’s beauty. Now, sobered, he trembled with fear. If he’d provoked a girl and caused trouble, damaging his business was minor—but tarnishing Long Ge’s reputation? They’d peel his skin off.

“Big Brother Fei, what’s going on?”

A long-haired guy and a curly-haired one staggered over, blocking Jiang Yuyue’s path with hostile expressions.

“I came here to play out of respect for Zhao Jianlong!” Jiang Yuyue glanced at the two. “I thought his character was decent, but today I see otherwise—look at the trash he’s hired.”

Jiang Yuyue gathered her coins, slung her bag over her shoulder, and stared coldly at the two: “Get out of my way. Don’t make trouble for yourself.”

The long-haired and curly-haired men looked at Fatty. Seeing he said nothing, they reluctantly stepped aside.

Zhou Andong had been watching this whole time. He wasn’t worried about Jiang Yuyue’s safety—this was Zhao Jianlong’s territory, and that scumbag cared most about his reputation. His dogs wouldn’t dare act up here. Sure enough, after being slapped, that pig didn’t dare growl.

Seeing Jiang Yuyue return, Zhou Andong gave a thumbs-up: “Impressive!”

Jiang Yuyue tossed her head proudly: “Dared to flirt with me? I was merciful not to knock out his teeth with one slap.”

Zhou Andong chuckled, grabbing her arm: “Let’s go upstairs.”

Fatty watched them climb the stairs, his face dark. He gave a signal to the long-haired and curly-haired men; they nodded and followed.

Fatty snatched the phone from the counter, dialed a number, and it rang through quickly: “Who is it?”

Fatty licked the blood on his lip, winced from the pain, cursed silently: “Brother Ma, it’s Fatty. Do you know a woman named Jiang Yuyue?”

He didn’t dare ask Zhao Jianlong—he had to call his boss.

“Jiang Yuyue?” The voice on the line suddenly rose. “What happened to her?”

Fatty’s heart thudded violently; his throat tightened. “N-nothing… she came to play at the arcade, said she knows Long Ge.”

The voice replied: “Let her play. Don’t disturb her. If any idiot interferes, drag them out and loosen their bones.”

“Y-yes, Brother Ma.” Sweat instantly beaded on Fatty’s forehead. After hanging up, he ran upstairs, glanced at Jiang Yuyue playing the slot machines, and whispered urgently to the two men.

Zhou Andong ignored Jiang Yuyue, carrying his black plastic bag as he wandered the second floor. Hundreds of slot machines lined the room; nearly every one had someone in front of it—mostly those with no money left, still lingering, unwilling to leave.

Suddenly, a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old boy, sallow-faced, eyes bloodshot, hair wild and tangled, caught Zhou Andong’s attention.

The boy mumbled nonsense under his breath. Zhou Andong stepped closer but couldn’t make out the words; still, the kid’s appearance screamed heavy losses.

Zhou Andong watched a moment, turned to leave—then saw a man, about seventy, thin, hunched, with snow-white hair, approach and stand silently beside the boy.

After a long while, the man’s voice cracked: “Chen Liang.”

The boy shuddered, looked up: “Dad.”

The man spoke calmly: “Go home. Stop playing.”

The boy suddenly grew agitated, pulling a handful of arcade coins from his pocket: “Dad, look—I still have some! Believe me, I’ll win it all back. I swear, I’ll win it back—then I can pay for Mom’s treatment.”

The man sighed: “Even if you win it back, it won’t help.”

The boy realized something. His hand trembled; the coins clattered to the floor. He forced a smile: “H-how could it not help, Dad? If I win it back, I can pay Mom’s hospital bill, get her surgery.”

A single cloudy tear slipped from the man’s eye: “This morning… your mother passed away.”

The boy froze. He grabbed his father’s arm, voice shaking: “Dad… you’re just angry, right?”

The man shook his head: “Chen Liang, when you first stole money to gamble here, your mother and I didn’t blame you. The second time, we thought you were still young, you’d grow out of it. Third time, fourth time… until you stole the money meant to save your mother’s life. I regret it—I should’ve killed you then. She might’ve lived a few more years.”

The boy’s body trembled uncontrollably, his grip on his father’s arm ironclad—he refused to believe his mother was dead.

The man struggled, failed to break free. His calm face twisted in fury. He kicked the boy hard in the chest, roaring: “I, Chen Baoqi, never did a single dishonest thing in my life—how could I give birth to a monster like you, huh?”

“What’s all this yelling?” The long-haired man, who’d been watching, finally spoke. “This is your family business. Don’t make a scene in my arcade. Get out.”

The man looked at his son—his eyes filled with despair: despair for life, for his son.

“Go home. Bow to your mother. Then go wherever you want.”

The man walked away, his back even more bent, his posture even more hunched.

Jiang Yuyue stood beside Zhou Andong, staring at the boy lying on the floor, soulless. She sighed softly, then looked at the flashing, beeping slot machines—her teeth clenched so tight she thought they’d shatter.

Zhou Andong pulled Jiang Yuyue’s arm: “Let’s go.”

Jiang Yuyue hurried after Zhou Andong out of the arcade: “Where to?”

Zhou Andong stared at the retreating back of the man, lit a cigarette: “Follow that man. See where he lives.”

Zhou Andong and Jiang Yuyue trailed the man for nearly two hours, arriving in the eastern suburbs. From afar, they heard mournful music drifting from a modest courtyard.

Zhou Andong quickened his pace: “Brother!”

The man halted, glanced around confusedly, then asked: “Are you calling me?”

Zhou Andong nodded, already pulling out his camera: “I followed you from the arcade.”

The man stepped back warily: “What do you want?”

Zhou Andong waved his hand: “Don’t misunderstand. I just want to interview you.”

The man frowned: “Interview me?”

“I’m a reporter from Beijing. I’ve been investigating the rampant illegal gambling operations using slot machines in Jiangzhou. During my undercover work, I happened upon your family’s tragedy. If you agree to this interview, once I publish it, the higher-ups will take notice.”

Zhou Andong lied without blinking.