Underworld: Starting with conquering countless lustful beauties

Before starting his job, Chen Feng went to the third floor—the floor where the manager's office was located.

At the end of the corridor, the door to the "Manager's Office" was closed, and a small nameplate hung on the wall next to the door: Jiang Hong.

He raised his hand and knocked on the door.

"Enter."

His voice was languid, yet carried an undeniable air of authority.

Chen Feng pushed open the door and entered, first smelling a faint scent of perfume mixed with the aroma of tobacco.

Jiang Hong, wearing a dark green wrap dress, sat on the sofa with her long legs crossed, flipping through account books. She held a slender women's cigarette between her fingers; the ash was quite long, but she didn't flick it off.

Hearing footsteps, she looked up, glanced at him, and smiled, "You're here?"

"Sister Hong." Chen Feng stood opposite her and bowed slightly.

"Sit down." Jiang Hong raised her chin and pointed to the sofa opposite her. "Don't give me that nonsense. It's tiring to watch you stand here."

Chen Feng hesitated for a moment, but still sat down, his back still very straight.

Jiang Hong looked at him and laughed: "Your posture is straighter than those two stone lions at our gate."

She stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray and said slowly, "Do you know how serious the consequences are for what happened yesterday?"

Chen Feng thought for a moment: "If Wang Defa holds a grudge, he will find a chance to retaliate against me, and it will also cause trouble for Jinbihuihuang."

"You do have some brains," Jiang Hong nodded. "But don't worry, he won't touch you for now."

Why?

"Because he also cares about his reputation." Jiang Hong crossed her legs and said slowly, "Last night when he got back, although he was furious, he also lost face in front of a few friends—you downed a whole bottle in one go, and if he really held a grudge, people would just say he's petty."

She paused, then looked at Chen Feng: "Besides, I went to his company early this morning to pay my respects, brought two cases of good wine, and drank two glasses for you as well."

Chen Feng was taken aback: "You drank it?"

"What?" Jiang Hong laughed. "You think you're the only one who'd risk your life for face?"

The two locked eyes for a moment.

Chen Feng said in a low voice, "Well... thank you, Sister Hong."

Jiang Hong waved her hand: "Don't rush to thank me. I'm not a saint, I won't offend a big client for someone as new as you."

She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on her thighs, her gaze sharp: "I'm helping you because you have something to offer."

Chen Feng looked up at her, but didn't say anything.

Jiang Hong continued, "You can beat Wang Defa's two bodyguards, you can drink a bottle of 60-proof liquor, and you even knew to pack up and run away instead of passing out in the private room. These three things combined are worth a gamble for me."

"What are you betting on?" Chen Feng asked.

Jiang Hong's smile deepened: "I bet you can clean up this mess in the future at Jinbihuihuang."

She picked up a cigarette from the coffee table and offered it to him: "Want one?"

Chen Feng took it, but held it somewhat awkwardly.

"Have you smoked it before?"

"We smoke leaf tobacco," Chen Feng said honestly. "The elderly in my family dry it themselves."

"No wonder." Jiang Hong laughed. "This stuff is much spicier than your tobacco. Be careful not to choke and cry."

She leaned forward slightly to light the fire for him, her fingertips accidentally brushing against the back of his hand, the coldness of her fingertips contrasting sharply with the roughness of his palm.

A flash of light, and the cigarette butt lit up. Chen Feng took a drag, but didn't control the intensity well, choking and coughing twice.

Jiang Hong couldn't help but laugh and handed him a tissue: "Take your time, no one's going to take it from you."

Chen Feng wiped his mouth: "It's a little spicy."

"You'll get used to it." Jiang Hong leaned back on the sofa. "That's how nightclubs are. You have to get involved in smoking, drinking, and sex. If you get too involved, you'll either become a ghost or someone even more ruthless than a ghost."

She paused, her tone suddenly tightening: "But remember one thing—in this magnificent place, rules are paramount. If you want to hit someone, think carefully about how not to implicate me."

Chen Feng nodded: "I'll consider it."

"You've said that twice already," Jiang Hong said, looking at him. "But what I'm more concerned about is—when you weigh things up, will you put 'me' first?"

The office fell silent for a moment.

Chen Feng raised his eyes and looked directly at her: "That's what I was thinking about that bottle of wine yesterday."

Jiang Hong paused for a moment, then smiled, a hint of something indescribable in her eyes.

"You can talk now." She nodded gently. "Okay, I'll remember that."

She stood up and straightened her skirt. "Alright, enough of that. Let's get down to business—"

"Tonight, your three groups will keep a close eye on corridor 888. Wang Defa won't cause trouble on the spot again, but he will have people coming. As long as his people don't go too far, just pretend you didn't see anything; if anyone dares to make a move in the corridor, then you take action."

Chen Feng asked, "To what extent did you go to intervene?"

"If you can avoid bloodshed, then avoid it," Jiang Hong said calmly. "We're doing business, not vendettas. Remember, it's easy to subdue one person, but subduing a group requires brains."

She walked up to him and gently patted his shoulder: "Go ahead, let me see if you can manage that corridor besides drinking."

"Remember, use your brain more often, and don't just think about using your fists."

Chen Feng stood up and stubbed out his cigarette: "Understood, Sister Hong."

……

Night fell completely.

The lighting in the VIP corridor on the second floor was a bit dimmer than on the first floor. The light strips on the walls cast soft halos of light, and the carpet was crimson, making no sound when you stepped on it.

The door to VIP room 888 was half-open, with occasional laughter and music escaping from it, mixed with a woman's coquettish giggles.

Chen Feng stood at the end of the corridor, his gaze subtly sweeping over the people coming and going. Monkey stood two steps away from him, responsible for greeting guests and guiding waiters in and out. Da Zhuang stood on the other side like a wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Chen... Chen Feng," Monkey whispered. "The receptionist just said there are a few unfamiliar faces tonight, introduced by Boss Wang. They'll probably be coming up in a bit."

Chen Feng hummed in agreement: "We'll see how drunk they get first, then we'll decide."

"Most of them are really arrogant," Monkey muttered under his breath. "They act like crazy in the private rooms because they have money. Last time, one of them smashed a beer bottle over one of our waiters' heads."

Chen Feng glanced at him: "And then?"

The monkey shrugged: "And then? Blackie apologized with a smile, the girl stitched up a few stitches herself, and went to work as usual the next day."

Chen Feng clenched his fist, then slowly relaxed it.

Just then, the elevator opened with a "ding".

A group of people walked out chatting and laughing. The leader was a young man in his early twenties, wearing a well-tailored casual suit, with the top two buttons of his white shirt undone. He had a thin gold chain around his neck and a gold watch on his wrist that gleamed under the lights.

He was fair-skinned, but his eyes held an innate arrogance, and the corners of his mouth were always slightly upturned. You could tell at a glance that he had been spoiled since childhood.

He was flanked by two men in suits, each with a steady gait, upright posture, and scanning eyes. They were clearly not ordinary friends, but bodyguards brought along to provide support.

"Young Master Zhao, good evening. This way, please."

The hostess quickly stepped forward, her smile impeccable, her waist curving into an arc.

"Same as always, 888 is reserved for you."

"Hmm." The young man responded casually, but his gaze fell on the girl, looking her up and down before suddenly reaching out to put his arm around her waist.

His movements were very natural, as if he were taking his own things.

The hostess froze, her smile almost faltering, and she instinctively shifted slightly to the side.

This tiny movement, in Zhao Shao's eyes, felt like a slap in the face.

His face darkened instantly, his hand paused, then slowly withdrew, staring at her, his voice icy: "What? You think I'm dirty?"

Several waiters on both sides of the corridor saw it, and quickly lowered their heads, pretending they hadn't seen anything.

The hostess turned pale with fright and waved her hands repeatedly, "No, no, no, Mr. Zhao, I was just afraid of stepping on your foot..."

"Feet?" Zhao Shao sneered, lifting his foot and taking two steps towards her high heels with a half-smile. "Then, if I stand here, are you still afraid?"

The atmosphere froze instantly.