Guide to Rising to Power as a Wife in Beijing's Elite Circle

Yongzhou, 7:40 a.m.

When Chen Nuo pushed open the half-collapsed wooden door, the rusty hinges made a grating "creak."

The room was darker than yesterday.

The light that could still seep through the cracks in the door yesterday is now completely blocked off by several newly nailed wooden boards.

The air was filled with dust, mustiness, and a... rusty, sweet, fishy smell.

It took her three seconds to adjust to the dimness of the room.

Then, his heart stopped.

In the center of the room, the old woman was tied to a rickety wooden chair, the hemp rope digging deep into her thin cotton-padded jacket.

Her mouth was stuffed with a tattered cloth so dirty that its color was unrecognizable, her gray hair was stuck to her face with sweat and tears, and there was a fresh bruise on her forehead that was bleeding.

What made Chen Nuo even more suffocated was that the old lady was holding a boy of about seven years old tightly in her arms.

The child was also tied up, his thin arms bound in front of him with rough hemp rope, his little mouth gagged with a strip of cloth, unable to make a complete cry, only muffled "ooh...ooh..." sounds, his face covered with tears and snot.

Three men were standing inside the house.

The two men, dressed in matching black jackets, had broad shoulders and were holding steel pipes in their hands. These weren't ordinary steel pipes from construction sites; they were galvanized, polished, and gleamed with a cold, hard light in the dim light.

Their posture was distinctive, with their feet slightly apart and their center of gravity lowered, as if they had undergone some kind of training.

A third man stood before the old woman. He was in his forties, wearing an ill-fitting gray suit with frayed white cuffs. He was hunched over, his voice low, but each word was like an icicle:

"...Aunt Li, we've found your son's will for you. It clearly states that he committed suicide and it has nothing to do with anyone else. Just sign it and put your fingerprint on it, and that'll be the end of it."

He took a document out of his briefcase; the paper was so white it was glaring in the dim light.

"Look here," he pointed to the paper, "this says that I, Li Cheng, have voluntarily ended my life for personal reasons, and it has nothing to do with anyone else. Please sign here, and we'll leave right away."

The old woman shook her head frantically, making muffled "woo-woo" sounds in her throat.

The man in the suit sighed, his tone turning cold: "Aunt Li, even if you don't think about yourself, you should think about your grandson, right? He's only seven years old, without parents. If anything happens to you..."

He reached out and touched the child.

The old woman trembled as if she had been electrocuted, hugging her grandson tightly and shrinking back, the chair legs scraping against the ground with a screeching sound.

Just then, the sound of Chen Nuo pushing open the door startled them.

The three men turned their heads at the same time.

The man in the suit narrowed his eyes and glanced over Chen Nuo. He was wearing a white down jacket, jeans, sneakers, and carrying a canvas bag.

Young and pretty, but she looks like an ordinary college student.

"Who are you?" His voice was cold.

Chen Nuo forced herself to remain calm. Ignoring the two men with steel pipes, she fixed her gaze directly on the man in the suit: "What are you doing?"

"None of your business," the man in the suit spat. "Get lost."

Chen Nuo didn't move.

She took a step forward, her leather shoes making a soft "rustling" sound on the dusty ground. This step was crucial; not retreating meant she was not afraid.

She glanced at the old lady.

The old woman looked at her too, her eyes filled with pleading and fear, but deep down... there was a desperate clarity.

Those eyes seemed to say: Go away, don't worry about me.

"I've already called the police," Chen Nuo said, his voice unusually clear in the empty, dilapidated house. "The police will be here soon."

It was a bluff, but she had to say it. As she spoke, her hand reached into her down jacket pocket and touched the small, cold, metallic alarm, no bigger than a button.

Fang Jingxiu gave it to her, telling her to keep it close to her body and press it if needed.

The man in the suit smiled.

The laughter was dry, like withered leaves rubbing together: "Call the police? You try calling one."

He gave him a wink.

The man on the left with the steel pipe moved and walked towards Chen Nuo.

The man's steps were steady; he took each step firmly before moving on to the next. He twirled the steel pipe in his hand, his movements as practiced as twirling a pen.

Chen Nuo took half a step back, but did not turn around and run.

She wanted to know the truth; she wanted to force them to reveal it.

"Who sent you?" she continued, deliberately raising her voice, both as an interrogation and as a signal to the bodyguards who might be arriving from afar. "The developer? Or... someone from the city?"

The word "city" made the man in the suit's expression change visibly.

He stared at Chen Nuo: "What do you know?"

"I know about this family." Chen Nuo met his gaze. "She paused, then said slowly and deliberately, "I also know that you didn't come here today for money."

This sentence was like a knife, precisely piercing the vitals.

The man in the suit's eyes instantly turned fierce, his feigned shrewdness vanishing completely, revealing his cold true nature: "Little girl, some wells are too deep; you'll drown if you peek inside."

The man with the steel pipe had already reached Chen Nuo and was about to grab her arm.

Chen Nuo suddenly dodged to the side, shouting, "I've already taken pictures of you and sent them to my boyfriend! He works for the Jingjing Development and Reform Commission! You try touching me!"

The sound echoed in the dilapidated house.

All three of them froze.