Chapter 767

The moment the door closed, the air in the tea room seemed to be sucked dry.

Zhao Tianyu's hand, propped on the tea sea, was trembling—not from fear, but from the physical reaction of extreme rage.

He had never suffered such humiliation in his life; Lin Dongfan's gaze, tone, and the casual gesture of tossing away the check played over and over in his mind.

"Fuck!"

He squeezed the word out between his teeth, raised his hand to smash something, but realized the only thing on the whole tea sea worth smashing was the set of purple‑clay teapots worth six figures.

His hand hung in midair.

Reason screamed: Don't smash it, or you'll really become a clown.

Just then, in that stalemate moment.

"Creak."

The door was pushed open again.

Zhao Tianyu snapped his head around, thinking Lin Dongfan had come back, and a twisted cold smile instantly spread across his face: "What? President Lin still has advice…"

His words caught in his throat.

The person standing in the doorway was a man in a black tactical jacket, crew‑cut, expressionless—Fan Ye's personal bodyguard, Lao Ba.

He was half a head taller than Lin Dongfan, his burly frame like twisted steel rods; standing there silent, he made the hairs on Zhao Tianyu's neck stand up instantly.

"Who are you?"

Zhao Tianyu forced himself calm, glanced at the hallway—empty, the two guards from earlier gone, and Xu Lili nowhere to be seen.

Lao Ba said nothing.

He turned and closed the door gently, making hardly a sound.

Then he began slowly unzipping his jacket.

Zhao Tianyu stepped back half a step, his back against the edge of the tea sea: "I'm asking you! Who let you in? Security—"

"Don't shout." Lao Ba finally spoke, his voice hoarse like sandpaper on wood: "Your people are asleep in the stairwell; they won't wake up anytime soon."

The zipper was undone.

Lao Ba took off his jacket, folded it neatly, and hung it on the huanghuali coat rack by the door.

Underneath was a pure black tight‑fitting short‑sleeve shirt.

One could clearly see the knotted muscles on his arms and several ferocious old scars.

"What do you want?!"

Zhao Tianyu's voice grew tight as he reached into his inner suit pocket—for his phone.

Lao Ba moved.

Not charging forward, but walking slowly toward him, each step planted firmly, like a leopard measuring distance before a strike.

His eyes stayed fixed on Zhao Tianyu's hand: "Fan Ye said he finds it dirty and doesn't want to get his hands dirty. But some rules need to be taught."

"Rules?"

Zhao Tianyu finally felt his phone.

His heart eased a little.

That cold smile returned to his face: "You're just a bodyguard, talking to me about rules? Do you know who I am? Believe it or not, I can make you disappear from Jingcheng by tomorrow."

He hadn't finished speaking.

Lao Ba suddenly accelerated!

Not a straight sprint, but a strange side‑sliding step; in the blink of an eye he was pressed against Zhao Tianyu's left side.

Zhao Tianyu didn't even see the move; he felt his wrist go numb, his phone flew from his hand with a "crack," hitting the display shelf, and a Qing‑imitation Ming blue‑and‑white porcelain vase fell and shattered into seven or eight pieces.

"My vase!"

Zhao Tianyu's eyes turned red—that vase had cost him over 800,000 to buy!

The next second.

Intense pain shot from his abdomen.

Lao Ba's fist struck his stomach like an iron hammer, the force precisely controlled—no internal injury, but enough to double Zhao Tianyu over instantly.

All the air was driven from his lungs; he couldn't even let out a cry.

"Rule number one." Lao Ba's voice sounded in his ear, calm as reading a manual: "Don't touch other people's wives."

Zhao Tianyu collapsed to his knees, hands clamped hard over his stomach, veins bulging on his forehead, cold sweat instantly soaking his shirt collar.

He lifted his head, eyes blood‑red, staring at Lao Ba: "You… you dare…"

Lao Ba ignored him.

He reached out, grabbed Zhao Tianyu's hair, forced his head up, and slapped his face with the other hand—not hard, but extremely humiliating.

"Rule number two!" Lao Ba continued: "Fan Ye said he's not holding a grudge, just giving you face. But face is given by others—you have to earn it yourself."

Having said that, he let go.

Zhao Tianyu lost his support, his whole body going limp on the floor, gulping ragged breaths, waves of nausea from his stomach cramps surging over him.

He struggled to get up, but Lao Ba's boot was already pressing down on the back of his right hand.

Not a heavy stomp, just a light press.

Yet that motion made Zhao Tianyu's whole body stiffen—if that foot applied even a little more force, the hand that played piano, signed contracts, and toyed with women would be ruined.

"Just now…" Lao Ba looked down at him, eyes devoid of emotion: "Did you use this hand to touch my Fan Sao?"

"……!!!"

Zhao Tianyu's breath stopped short.

He finally understood what Lin Dongfan meant by "I find your hands dirty"—it wasn't letting him off, but really thinking he was filthy, so he sent his underlings to deal with him!

"I… I didn't…"

Zhao Tianyu wanted to quibble, but his voice trembled uncontrollably.

Lao Ba slightly increased the pressure with his foot.

A faint, teeth-grating scraping sound came from the bones under the boot.

"Ah—!"

Zhao Tianyu cried out in anguish, not from unbearable pain but from fear overwhelming everything. He could feel that, as long as the man before him wished, he could crush every bone in his fingers at any moment.

"Answer me."

Lao Ba's voice remained calm.

"……Yes."

Zhao Tianyu squeezed the word out from between his teeth, shame flooding his chest like venom.

Lao Ba nodded, then moved his foot away.

Zhao Tianyu had just thought to relax his breath when he saw Lao Ba crouch down, level with his gaze. On that angular face, for the first time, a faint, almost cruel smile appeared.

"The third rule, and also the last one."

Lao Ba's gaze was like a torch.

Each word like a knife: "I spared your life today so you'd know you truly have no qualifications to wrestle with Fan Ye. If you want to play business, Fan Ye will play it out with you to the end. If you want to play dirty, Fan Ye will accompany you to the end. But remember—the jianghu rule: disaster does not extend to family! Understand? Play as you may, but hold the line."

Saying this, Lao Ba patted Zhao Tianyu's already swollen right cheek, the force not light.

Lao Ba warned again: "If you don't behave, next time you might not be so lucky—beware of the Western Heaven Buddha summoning you."

"!!!"

Zhao Tianyu's pupils contracted sharply, his nerves making breathing somewhat difficult.

Lao Ba turned and walked toward the coat rack, put on his jacket again: "Take care of yourself." He zipped it up, and when he reached the doorway he paused briefly, not looking back.

He merely coldly threw down one sentence:

"By the way, a reminder: the Smart Energy Demonstration Base project has nothing to do with your Zhao Group; I advise you not to harbor designs on the other judges, otherwise you'll bear the consequences."

The door opened and closed again, the tea room fell into dead silence.

Zhao Tianyu lay sprawled on the floor, a full five minutes passing before he struggled to his feet.

He leaned on the edge of the tea sea, his legs still trembling, waves of gastric cramping coming, but none compared to the fire in his heart that burned, twisting his viscera and bowels.

He lowered his gaze to his right hand—a clear boot print on the back of his hand, with subcutaneous bruising slowly spreading.

He also looked at the clump on the ground, a check soaked and ruined by tea.

He saw the porcelain bottle shattered across the floor.

Finally, he staggered to the window, from here able to overlook the entire club backyard. That black Mercedes had long vanished, only a few staff members sweeping the grounds.

"The project has nothing to do with me?"

Zhao Tianyu muttered to himself, a chorus of ten thousand grass-mud horses galloping and neighing in his heart! Damn, did Lin Dongfan's damned back of the head grow eyes? How does he know I want to take down the other judges?

It seemed Lin Dongfan had already figured out Zhao Tianyu's details inside and out.

"Hahaha……" Zhao Tianyu suddenly laughed, his voice hoarse and manic, eyes full of bloodshot: "Good……very good……Lin Dongfan……"

He staggered back to the tea sea, seized the surviving, more valuable Ming Jiajing five-color fish-algae pattern jar, and held it high——

He paused for three seconds, then gently set it down.

Cannot smash it.

If he smashed it, he would truly lose, unable to afford to lose this person.

Zhao Tianyu panted, slowly straightening up, and pulled another backup phone from his inner suit pocket—the one just knocked away by Lao Ba having been his everyday phone.

He dialed a number.

After the call connected, he exerted all his strength to suppress the trembling in his voice, but the gritting-teeth hatred still seeped out from every word:

"It's me—those surnamed Lin are clearly out to get me now! That damn bastard has money and power; ordinary tricks don't work on him! First, tuck your tail between your legs and keep a low profile!"